The genius of routine

The Red Truck, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas
 I believe that creativity rests less on freedom than on structure. Iā€™m not the only person whoā€™s discovered that genius requires discipline: from this Navy SEAL asserting that everything starts with making your bed to Mason Curreyā€™s Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, the idea permeates current thought on the creative process.

Portrait of the Artist’s Studio. If you’re looking for the exotic air of the sereglio in my studio, you have come to the wrong place.
Writers and artists are frequently asked how we make meaningful work while earning a living. Currey set out to amass as much information as he could find about the routines underlying successful careers in the arts. Several of his common themes resonate with me.
A workspace with minimal distractions. People often want to stop and see my studio, and theyā€™re always disappointed. It is not an ā€˜artyā€™ place. Itā€™s a practical workspace, not much different in form from my wood shop. My most successful artist friends concentrate on having their stuff where they need it, even when the space is tiny and appears to be overflowing.
For me, the most difficult part of working out of my house is that Iā€™m easily found.
I walk every day, unless the temperature drops below zero and the wind is blowing, or the snow is too deep.
A daily walk. I actually take two walks every dayā€”the first one first thing in the morning, the second in late morning or at lunch time. This is a lifelong habit. Walking is my time to think, reflect, and pray. I rapidly sink into ennui when deprived of it.

As time-consuming as it is to walk several miles a day, my productivity actually drops if circumstances keep me from exercising.

Accountability. Unlike a writer, the visual artist canā€™t count brushstrokes or square inches of work. But we can assure that we work regular hours. I have noticed that this helps me get in the groove of painting faster. Iā€™m convinced that the brain recognizes routine and appreciates it.
This is jeweler Jennifer Jones doing some of the busywork in her jobā€”sorting findings by color.
A clear dividing line separating our important work and busywork. Most artists spend half their work day doing things like marketing, accounting, taxes, inventory control, etc.  Unfortunately, we use our computers for that, which sucks us inevitably into the world of email and Facebook. Our ancestors may have spent a ton of time doing busywork, but at least it didnā€™t ding at them morning, noon and night.

Iā€™ve noticed that Iā€™m doing less sketching since Iā€™ve gotten a smart phone. Itā€™s too easy to pull it out to check messages and then get drawn into it.

A supportive partner. My husband and I have been happily married for almost 35 years. About two years ago, we had a heart-to-heart talk about my career and where it was going. It was obvious that getting out of Rochester was the next logical career step for me. He never hesitated. ā€œGo,ā€ he said, and I am. Thatā€™s amazing loyalty and support.
It used to be that painting en plein air saved you from distraction. Sadly, we now carry our distraction around with us.
Limited social lives.You know that arty guy you see at every opening? I wonder when he has time to get any work done.

Most successful artists I know are to some degree antisocial, and yet our work is essentially communication. People donā€™t just feel that they know us, they do know us, and we have to honor that. But like anyone else working for a living, we need time to actually get stuff done. I love teaching art and talking about art, but during the day I want to be busy making art.

Let me know if youā€™re interested in painting with me on the Schoodic Peninsula in beautiful Acadia National Park in August 2015. Click here for more information on my Maine workshops! Download a brochure here.

Social media and selling

Boats, by little ol’ me. Social media allows you to get your work out to a larger audience.
Last week I got into a spirited discussion with other painters about social media and marketing. As I frequently do, I cited one of my favorite painting students.
In his other life, Brad VanAuken is a brand consultant to Fortune 100 companies and the author of a texton the subject thatā€™s going into its second printing. (In fact itā€™s his success in his chosen field that somewhat slows down his progress as a painter, since heā€™s always jetting around the globe instead of coming to class.)
Using photos of myself painting on location helps my audience understand what I do. Standing in creeks will someday also give me pneumonia or a broken ankle, but I try not to focus on that. (Photo courtesy of Mitchell Saler, a painter you’ll be hearing about in the future.)
Brad is the person who made me understand an essential truth about social media: it works more like a mesh than an arrow. I canā€™t cite a particular connection between, say, a Pinterest post on Tuesday and the sale of a painting on Friday, but there is no question thatā€”somehowā€”it works. Iā€™m completely booked from now until September with invitational paint-outs, shows, and classes.
Sunset in Maine, by little ol’ me. I try to be transparent, to let people see my failures as well as my successes, because I want people to understand that painting isn’t a question of genius, but of plugging along.
One painter suggested that platforms like Tumblr and Twitter were a waste of time because their target demographic doesnā€™t buy paintings. This is untrue. I need look no farther than 22-year-old Anna, who not only owns her own home (which contains purchased art) but takes painting lessons from me to boot. And even if it were true, her age cohort is in some ways the arbiter of taste for the rest of us.

I have three openings left for my 2014 workshop in Belfast, ME. Information is available 
here.