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mailART for June

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Last month when I said that rejection wasn't a buzz-kill? I lied. It totally derailed me. I fell hard, and wallowed in self-doubt and criticism despite my pep talk via blog post. And then, thanks to some clear messages from my post-op knee, I realized this "turning on myself" was contraindicated for my health. So I dropped the harshness.

Feels like I'm back on track, doing the basics: morning pages, PT, client work ramping up. Most importantly, I'm getting my hands on my art, daily. This feels crucial to my sanity, frankly. I also pulled out books from my touchstones and guides: Julia Cameron, Natalie Goldberg, Anne Lamott. These women have lived the artist's life far longer than I and their advice feels like it's written specifically for me right now.

June's mailART exchange with my friend Elizabeth reflects a lot of this, although we didn't plan it. That seems to be the thing with collage and our wavelength across the miles these days.

Elizabeth to Kelly June 2010, frontElizabeth to Kelly June 2010, back

Kelly to Elizabeth June 2010, frontKelly to Elizabeth June 2010, back

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rejection: stings, but not a buzz kill

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This week I got two rejections: MCBA's Prints Now in 3-D! and 23 Sandy's Book Power! exhibitions will not include my work. The rejection emails I received couldn't have been kinder, coming from artist curators who know the sting of being told no. It still sucks.

My initial reaction was to take it lightly and move on - after all, I'm still riding high from a string of recent acceptances and big steps related to my art. But then it hit me - ouch. Tiny panicky doubts popped up...is this all just a fluke? beginner's luck? am I not as grounded in my art as it feels? with time, will I be revealed as not a "real" artist?

                                                                                                                                                                                        This morning I woke up and didn't believe any of those things. I did, however, realize that I need to get my hands on my work and create. To keep moving. To stop stalling on some pieces that feel a little intimidating to me right now (a feeling I've come to recognize as: you're on to something).

I also did a little exploring to see how more seasoned artists navigate the necessary evil of rejection. One of the most thoughtful and comprehensive pieces I've found is by Joanne Mattera, an encaustics artist who also writes a terrific blog about navigating life as an artist.

book artists and poets on itunes

I recently discovered Steve Miller's Book Artists and Poets podcasts on iTunes, as I was searching for distractions to listen to while I recover from recent knee surgery. What a goldmine of oral history, context and inspiration. This is what I've been yearning for - an intimate view into the thinking, journey, and work of people who have made their life in the book arts. 

Steve's podcasts are turning out to be way more than a distraction. I look forward to my endless physical therapy sessions because they’re my next chance to listen to another intriguing interview with the likes of Hedi Kyle, Betsy Davids, Audrey Niffenegger, and Julie Chen.

Steve does a great job drawing thoughtful insights from his subjects, all the while painting a vivid scene of what's happening around them. I feel like I'm right there, listening in on a great conversation. One of my favorites so far is when he interviewed Andrea Peterson while she rowed him around Ox-bow lake at dawn.

mailART

In March, my friend Elizabeth and I took a workshop together at Kripalu, Vibrant Visionary Collage, led by Karen Arp-Sandel. We had no idea what we were in for! We thought it an opportunity to mix girlfriend time, yoga retreat, spa and getaway with a little art. Little did we realize how transformative, fun and mind-shifting four days of "innocent" collage making in a roomful of mostly middle-aged goddesses could be.

One of my favorite discoveries that Karen turned us onto is mail art, where the postal system is medium, and the art is handmade collaged postcards to friends, family, or really anyone. Karen and her partner-in-crime, Suzi Banks Baum, call it FEmail, which I love. Karen and Suzi are the Queens of FEmail as far as I'm concerned - check out their current (extended!) exhibition at Berkshire Art Kitchen.

Elizabeth and I were so inspired by all of this that we vowed to send each other a piece of mail art every month. What better way to stay in touch with the yin and yang of our distant and often out-of-touch lives throughout the year, when what we really want is more time for connection and being present with one another? I wasn't sure if I could make my April deadline, though, with recent knee surgery packing me a wallop I'd not fully anticipated - my convalescence was more like a hibernation as I navigated drug allergies, infection and deep fatigue.

I felt more than a little protective letting go of E's postcard. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the postal attendant - would s/he give me a hard time for sending something that didn't comply with postal standards, or would they be game for a little art? I also knew my little masterpiece would be immediately changed the moment I handed it over for postage and hand-cancelling.

And that's exactly what happened. Not only did the attendant smile and take a moment to look at both sides of the piece, he patiently looked through all of his stamps to find just the right combination to arrange in the space I'd left. "See?" I said, "You're a collaborator on this piece of art!" He smiled. I felt so good leaving it in his hands, knowing that the first part of it's journey to Elizabeth was good.

When I returned home today, guess what was waiting for me in the mail? Elizabeth's April postcard to me. I got a little weepy has I caressed it and gazed, the message both powerful and tender to me.

your chance to learn from the best!

Binnewater Arts Center, home to WSW studiosSo you've been looking for the perfect papermaking and printmaking workshop this summer, preferably in an idyllic little town somewhere up north?

Then you must check out Gretchen Schermerhorn's class this June up at Women's Studio Workshop in Rosendale, NY. If you are unfamiliar with WSW, they are a 30 year old arts organization with an emphasis in printmaking, papermaking and book arts. Gretchen (Pyramid Atlantic's Director the Papermill, Artistic Collaboration and Outreach) did a residency there back in December and now wants everyone to share in the joy that is WSW.

This is your chance, if you've ever wanted to explore this medium. Gretchen's an internationally-known and sought-after artist, so you'll be learning from the best. Plus, she's very cool and lots of fun. Details below:

From Paper To Print with Gretchen Schermerhorn
Paper is to printmaking as banana skins are to bananas, the structure that contains and supports the delicious product. In this hybrid workshop we will focus on creating customized handmade papers for monoprint, relief and intaglio printmaking. We will begin with the basics of sheet formation, using cotton rag, flax, and abaca fibers, and the focus will be on variation of thick to thin and opaque to translucent sheets. Pigmentation and the use of additives will be covered. Then we will move on to stencil work, pulp printing and chine colle (collage)-all methods that will later register with printed matter. The second half of the class will be spent printing on our handmade papers. Polyester plate lithography, relief and screenprinting will be taught, with an emphasis on using the papers that were made in the first part of the class, to create richly layered prints.

July 19 - 23, 2010. To learn more, click here and scroll down to Gretchen's workshop

womanmade exhibition opens may 1st

I'm particularly excited about being included in this exhibition, WomanMade at Target Gallery in Alexandria, VA as part of the Minds Wide Open Virginia statewide celebration of women in the arts. This is my first multi-media show, and I feel truly honored to be one of 28 artists chosen from over 400 worldwide. 

Exhibition Dates: May 1 - 30, 2010 • Reception: May 13, 6-8pm • Juror's Talk: 7pm
Special Programming: May 13 at 7:30pm • Karen Reedy Dance

in the genes: an exhibition celebrating the family bond

One of my new collegues at the Torpedo Factory, Carolyn Witschonke, has work in this upcoming exhibition, In the Genes. A nice way to spend Mother's Day! Details below:

The Torpedo Factory Art Center invites visitors to explore the possibility of the existence of a “creative gene” with this special building-wide exhibition. Alongside their own work, participating studio artists will display work from artistic family members with whom they have a direct genetic connection, including visual artists, musicians, and writers.

There's a special Mother's Day opening reception on Sunday, May 9th, from 1-4pm. Moms and their families will enjoy an afternoon of wine and sweets as they explore this unique exhibition that celebrates the family bond.

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designing a life

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I received great news yesterday: I've juried in as a studio artist at the Torpedo Factory Art Center. This is something I've dreamed of for awhile, but in no way whatsoever did I think it would happen so quickly. I was told that nobody juries-in on their first attempt, and I certainly didn't see myself as a "real" artist ("I'm still very new at this," I say to people). Be that as it may, I got in...and my self-perception has just been flipped on its head.

Over the past 24 hours, all kinds of explanations have run through my head. Anything from, "there must have been little competition," to "artists are disappearing in this economy - they must be hard-up for fresh blood." Whew, I can be harsh on myself.

However, today at the Torpedo Factory, I felt like Cinderella. Not only did people gush about my work, they seemed genuinely excited to welcome me to the fold. I'll be learning a lot over the next few weeks about what's involved - apparently there's a fairly well-honed mentoring process for new "associate artists" that's intended to set us up for success, not launch us in over our heads too quickly.

Next week, there's an exhibition of the juried-in class of 2010's work at Target Gallery, with a reception to meet the art center's artists for possible sub-lease matches (feels a little like a sorority rush!). Of course since I didn't expect to be participating in any of this, I scheduled my knee surgery for next week. I am, however, determined to not miss a thing, crutches and all. What a nice high to carry me through what may otherwise be a tough week!

The original motivation for starting this blog a mere two years ago was to explore, integrate and share what it means to consciously live my life. I can't believe that was only 24 months ago, because, boy, when you put your intentions out there in the world, stuff happens.

doing things that scare me

I've been working my way through a list of things that scare me. I didn't realize I was doing it until recently, but I am. On that list are things like...

  • submit my work to an exhibit juried by the legendary Hedi Kyle (I did, and both pieces got in)
  • apply for a summer residency (will find out next week)
  • take my first crack at "jurying in" as a studio artist at the Torpedo Factory (will find out tomorrow)
  • have surgery next week to fix the ruptured ACL in my left knee (steady as I go, nerves in check and looking forward to putting this behind me)
  • tell my husband what I really want (to transition my career - and income - to artist and put an addition on our house).

So there. I've not perished by doing any of this. In fact, I feel darned solid. On a bit of a roll. And my guess is that when something doesn't work out the way I hope, I'll still be fine. Now what I find really interesting about all of this are the themes that are emerging: renovation, repair, rebuilding, new "additions." Sounds like a new artist book in the making.



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art of the edition: one day at a time

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As I re-engage slowly after a long, restorative break from too much of a good thing late last year, it's tempting to let overwhelm kick in and chase me back into hibernation. A recovering workaholic from my day job, it's safe to say I'd unwittingly found another substance (my book art) to take its place. 

At 15 books and 10 clamshell boxes into an edition of 50, the end does not feel anywhere in sight. But I don't have to let that rattle me from what I'm re-learning: take it one day at at time. Quite literally, my intention (and actions, so far) is to get my hands on the edition once a day. Some days it's for ten minutes, others it's for an hour or two...but every day, I make a little progress.

This is not a new idea. I've used it in the past, taking it down to one hour at a time in the worst of times. Talented classmate and friend Leslie Patterson-Marx inspired its application to art last summer during our artist book workshop with Susan King. In her altered book, One Day at a Time, Leslie carved one mark into the book each day for thirty days - a meditational performance piece of sorts - the fruits of her effort only clear after she steadily showed up every day to do as she had committed.

This is very satisfying. It keeps extreme thinking and behaviors at bay, and grounds me in the present. This promises to be an extraordinary year, glimmers of opportunity to come already on my radar. As things ramp up - and they are, for sure - I'll serve myself and others well by taking it one day at a time.

mother (well, father) of all collaborations?

Just stumbled onto artist Gregory Colbert's work, Ashes & Snow. His 18-year ongoing collaboration with people and animals around the globe is a testament to long-term vision, steady persistance and stunning beauty.

He shares his work through photography, film, installation, and the book arts. The scope, depth, scale, and beauty of this work take my breath away.

new decade, different intentions

Moira McCauley's 2010 letterpress calendarMy, what a difference a decade makes. On January 1, 2000 my life could not have been more different. I was completely lost on all fronts of my life and floundering. Worst of all, I'd lost myself and wasn't ready to admit it. I spent the first decade of the new millennium digging myself out of a huge hole. 

In retrospect, I feel no shame - this was a necessary passage, part of designing an intentional and authentic life. The gift for me in 2009 was that I uncovered my compassion. For myself and for others, particularly for people with whom I've struggled or who have hurt me. At the risk of sounding like a cliche or new-age self-help book: they've been my greatest teachers.

I spent much of the last decade doing. In the words of my friend and gifted writer Joanne Lozar Glenn, I was more of a human doing than a human being, going out with a bang at the end of 2009 by over-doing too much of a good thing. This distinction comes to mind as I contemplate a new year, a new decade.

And I turn back to a still older friend, Simple Abundance. This book was a lifeline in the early 2000s, given to me twice (I really needed it, but ignored it the first time) by my BFF Mandy. I recently pulled it out again as a touchstone after the dust settled this December from my whirlwind fall. Abundance, yes - but not at all simple. Time to go back to the basics that I know work for me. Once I got past my "I'm over this" and "boy, this is corny" resistance, I'm finding the daily meditations refreshing and packed with new meaning at this point in my life.

This morning's journaling revealed a slightly different twist on New Year's intentions: instead of diving into the yummy pile of exhibition calls and residency applications I've been saving for this very day, I'm intentionally setting them aside for today. Instead, I'm pondering what simple abundance might look like for me in 2010.

  • one thing at at time
  • belief in a generous universe that won't be stingy with opportunities and joy (therefore, no need to grab, rush and do)
  • owning my artist self and let her shine through an original and authentic voice
  • listening deeply to myself and others
  • not having an agenda
  • doing things in service of what's good and what will make a difference
  • living generously (with myself and others)
  • saying no appropriately and early on

Happy New Decade, to you, too!