What *have* I been up to?

I’ve just scrolled through my photos for the whole year – here we are, more than half way through the year already – looking for ideas of what to post about.

The year started off with a bang, I had a solo show of cyanotypes, a micro show, also of cyanotypes, and The Healing Quilts were in a group show.

Since then, I’ve taken a couple of classes that weren’t great, and one that was amazing. I’ve taken a few short trips and a long camping trip where we hiked, ate great food cooked over the fire, and also got slightly covered in (dog) ticks, had to hike through a bog (twice), relatedly, had to buy new shoes immediately, and enjoyed the best ice cream ever and the best showers ever.

We’re also in one of those phases where everything is breaking. It turns out this is what happens when you habitually do not stay ahead of things and wait til it’s an emergency to fix the things. It’s a budgeting strategy, I’m sure you’ve heard of it?

Last year, repair men were out three times to fix the oven and it sorta worked. You had to set it to 25 degrees above what you wanted, which was annoying, especially if you were making an Australian recipe, that when you converted the temp, it came out to 368 degrees. Anyway, then it broke *again.* This time, a new repair man fixed it for real, yay!

Then we took the car to the mechanic and he basically said, “Please don’t make me fix this car anymore.” Not really, but that’s how it felt. He actually asked, “What’s your plan for this car?” I said that I wanted it to go to 250,000 miles, and I could hear him shaking is head over the phone.

He convinced us not to fix it, and today he has both cars, which are identical (weird story, don’t do it, it’s super confusing), to maybe strip one for parts and I am hoping so hard that he doesn’t call and say, “What’s your plan for *this* car?” Or tell us that we shouldn’t keep either one.

Yes, these cars are 14 years old (wait, no, it’s 16) and yes, they each have over 150,000 miles on them. And yes, they’ve been ridden hard and put away wet. But I need one of them to work! Like, today, ideally. Did I mention the transmission light just came on in the one that I’m hoping to keep?

What does this have to do with art? Nothing I guess, except that it’s more challenging to create when you’re stressed that you can’t make a frozen pizza (except in the big toaster oven), make granola from scratch, (or brownies, or birthday cake) and aren’t sure how you’re getting to work on Monday.

And I didn’t even tell you about the plumbing. We’re not going to talk about the plumbing. Know that we were on water rationing for a week, while we waited for the plumber, and it was bad and expensive.

But it’s all okay, because I’m an artist! And everyone knows that professional artists are very financially secure.

What was I talking about?

I’m starting to think I shouldn’t publish this post.

There’s always this pattern, for me, and for most/all artists. You’re productive, and then you need some time to let the fields lie fallow (that’s an analogy from an essay I read but could never find again). You need time for inspiration, to refill the creative well. The first few times it happens, you think you’re dying, and maybe quitting art. Then you realize this is normal and you go with it, you know you’ll come back from it.

Not that I’m not making stuff. I am. I keep my studio hours religiously and am making a personal quilt for a gift, I made a baby quilt and a big sister quilt earlier this year, and now that it’s summer, I’m back to doing natural dyes. You certainly can do natural dyes year-round, but I find it’s a bit less fun in the winter, in my basement, working with lots of cold water.

Here’s the other thing – besides the broken everything, and the living in a 100+ year old house and having two kids in college at the same time – and living in these times in general – I have had an *incredible* few years as an artist. Last year’s solo show at Art Reach of Mid Michigan was a really, really strong show, if I do say so myself, and I do.

Two years ago, I worked with the curator at the Garrett Museum of Art to put on a gorgeous show of micro art by 15 artists, a show with 14 box micro galleries and over 600 pieces of art!

I have curated the Angelica Kauffman Gallery with non-stop shows since 2021. The gallery is now in a niche at the Oak Park Art League, meaning the artists and visitors can see the shows in person.

I run the website Find a Free Little Art Gallery. I did the Clocking in for Unpaid Labor Project, which had three shows and has been/is being replicated (with enthusiastic permission) in Canada.

Oh, and I teach up to 7 art classes a week. Usually “just” 4-5. Week before last, it was 7, 6 at my usual place, and one at a library.

In addition to all of that – I’m also questioning everything that I do as an artist. In the past 3-5 years, I’ve had work in multiple museums (regional museums, but still!), I’ve been written about in multiple cool publications, I’ve had my essays published in books and online, I’ve had really great solo shows.

Aaaaaand, I’m am *still* not rich and famous. Not that that’s the goal, but, I am questioning why I’m doing all of this (group shows, solo shows, dedicating my life to art) when it costs money but doesn’t make much. My art *does* sell. And also, I make feminist statements on vintage linens. It’s a niche.

It’s like I was bought-in so hard on – I don’t know – this idea that you just keep making the best work you can, and show it at ever more prestigious locations and that – what? Something would happen? The art gods would recognize my hard work and reward me with – something?

And then that belief broke, in the same way that my obsessive near-daily Instagram posting habit was broken when we took a family trip in 2024 during which I completely unplugged. (And paid someone else to post for me and respond to comments.)

Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out how to be an artist. I’m still making work. But why?

If you’re not trying to “make it,” then what are you doing? I can’t be a hobbyist. No disrespect to hobbyists, but I don’t have hobbies. I pursue art and craft at a professional level, in terms of the making, and the showing and business of it. (How’s that going for you?)

As I mentioned, I’ve got two kids in college, full time. I need to earn money, and 7 is definitely the limit on teaching classes per week (unless those classes at the Art League run in July…).

I’m committed to my art practice and also, I’m trying to figure out how to earn more money, in general, and how to approach my art career now. Could I move into public art projects? Could I get better at selling original art? Should I teach online as well as in person?

Wow, this is not the blog post I thought I was going to write. I was thinking of showing you some travel pics and some works in progredd.

I was really struck by this image I saw on substack, I can’t find it right now, (there’s a screenshot somewhere) but it said something like, “an artist can’t create in public all the time.” Which has been really helpful in my trying to walk away from social media thing (but all my friends are there! my art supporters who encourage me!).

I don’t have a tidy way to tie this up. I’m still here, I’m still creating, and I’m trying to figure it out.