Jan 5
If you haven’t yet seen this amazing video yet, enjoy. Eirik Solheim took a series of daily photos every day in a set location outside his home and the results are stunning. Necessary inspiration for winter doldrums, which will hit New England in about three weeks!
Vodpod videos no longer available.
Jan 5
I’ve had my fair share of rejection in my life. I used to traipse around the Boston area, auditioning here and there for parts. Probably, I was a little out of my league. In fact, in the words of the Magic Eight Ball, it is decidedly so. Fresh out of college, quite “green,” no experience in the professional theatre (as an actress), and with many stars, and a stray eyelash or two, in my eyes, I picked my audition pieces with the aplomb and insight of a politician dealing crack.
Still, I hoped for the best, and bravely strode to the doors of one such audition, piece in hand (or in my head, actually). It was Emily’s last monologue in Our Town, a role I did not ever play, and although I did play Mrs. Webb in my high school production, that mere fact does not mean that I was capable of producing an efficient rendering of the scene. In retrospect, let’s just say I was a little ill-prepared.
But it was a serious monologue, and I produced it poignantly, I imagined, PAR cans in my face, to the faceless souls out there watching. I finished. They said, “Thank you.” I turned and pushed open the double doors, and as they swung closed behind me, I heard them burst into laughter.
Yes. Laughter.
Oooh, that killed me. I think that might have been the proverbial straw, although I should have brushed myself off and kept going. But I think, at that moment, I somehow felt that I just didn’t have it in me. I couldn’t do it anymore. It felt personal.
Of course, being a writer, one faces rejection all the time. Every day. It is an aspect of the writing life that is reliable, like an old coat, like that pair of “go-to” jeans. Some people even sort of thrive on it. Or at least, make it into a joke.
My old college professor, and mentor, of sorts, told us he used to wallpaper his room with all the rejection letters he received. They almost became sort of badges of honor for him. All those rejections. All those submissions.
I’m not sure why I don’t submit more. I have many articles and essays that, if only fleshed out and worked up, might amount to something. It’s always the last thing on my to-do list, the editing and researching and sending out of material. I sometimes wonder if maybe I have a fear of rejection. Or fear of success, which is even more puzzling. Maybe I have a fear of rejectful succession. I think that’s probably the case.
Pseudo-self-analysis aside, I think sometimes rejection is our greatest friend, as writers. It can really give us a fresh look to our writing — it can give us Perspective and Objectivism. It can also give us a major migraine, but that can easily be solved by a good sound nap and the formulation of a long heated letter stating why said rejecter is talking out of his or her ass. (Shredded right afterwards, of course).
I do think rejection can be constructive, especially if the criticism is given that way. I am reminded of a graduate writing class I took, where one of my fellow students declared, “I don’t like your story, and I don’t know why.” (Believe me, HE got an very heated, unsent letter later on that evening). Some criticism is not helpful, nor is it necessary. I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?
I don’t expect much in the way of personal feedback from magazines, journals, publishers, etc., who have rejected me. I mean, these hard-working people have their share of relentless reading to do – much of it crap, in all likelihood. So I don’t expect a small novelette in response, for goodness sake.
Still, it is difficult not to take it personally, at times. Writers — and all artists, I think — must have the ability to shake off negativity, and keep heads up and egos in place. At times, writers must appear to have monstrous, in-your-face, stocking-up-at-the-all-you-can-eat-counter-and-then-going-for-seconds types of egos, that continually need to be fed; that need the affirmation, the nod, the, “Yes, you’re doing great! Yes, you are GOING places!” In actuality, I think writers are some of the most insecure people around, needing the boost that comes with encouragement and positive feedback.
I’m not sure I’m insecure. I might be so insecure that I am secure in it. Or that I just don’t see it, because I’m so deluded. Hopefully it’s neither one, and I happen to be someone who is developing a secure sense of self (but if delusion is the case, than how would I know)? I’ll tell you, no matter what state of self-possession I might be in, I surely need to get back to it, and start sending stuff out again.
I’m adding in here a letter I found in an old box of my childhood writings, which I must have received when I was eight years old. It appears that I had sent in a poem to the publishing company Ramapo House, and they were kind enough to send me a rejection letter back, which my parents astutely kept. It’s my first one. * sniff *
Dear Mary:
Thank you very much for your wonderful poem. We have hung it up in my office and everyone who visits my office will read it.
You are a very good poetess. You should save a copy of all your poems and perhaps someday a publisher will print them in a book with your name under them. When I see lovely poems like this I am sorry that our company only publishes textbooks for schools!
Thank you again.
Thanks, Ramapo. Maybe someday a publisher WILL print them in a book. With my name under them, and everything. I can only hope.
Jan 2
Ah, the first Breakfast interview of 2009! Meet Carrie O’Neill, artist, mother, and blogger. You caught a glimpse of Carrie’s work last week, when she won our weekly creativity contest for the prompt “gift.” Her work is irresistible. Enjoy a bit of New Year’s inspiration with your coffee this morning!
CC: Please introduce yourself.
CO: I’m 34 years old and live in a 113-year-old house in Olympia, WA. I’m married and have a 3-year-old daughter. I’m an artist and illustrator, and sell/show my work in town and through my Etsy shop, 365 Illustrations of Love. I’m also in the process of having my illustration work distributed through a stock illustration company.
CC: Tell us about your artwork and other creative endeavors.
CO: I love to paint with watercolors and ink. I’m currently working on a series of paintings exploring my family history. I’m fascinated by the contours of the many relationships within a family and developing personal imagery for expressing that topography. I’m also in the midst of a yearlong daily illustration project. Each day I create a small painting and post it to my blog and Etsy shop. I started it as a tool to help me practice and develop my drawing skills. I also try to do the Illustration Friday challenge each week.
CC: What prompted you to start a blog? What keeps you going?
CO: Honestly, I started my blog, Whole Cloth Designs, on a whim. A little over a year ago, I had just started doing little felting and sewing projects when I came across crafting blogs. One morning I got a bee in my bonnet and decided I would create a blog, too. Fortunately, there are so many accessible (and free!) blog-hosting options that I found the whole process really easy. Whole Cloth Designs is a catchall for my art projects, creative process, parenting adventures, and gallery for my daughter’s art projects. I try not to feel weighed down in maintaining a certain focus in this blog, since it is really just for fun. I love that I can keep in touch with far-flung friends through blogging.
My second blog, 365 Illustrations of Love, is my gallery for my daily drawings.
CC: What goals do you have for your art? How would you define your “life’s work”?
CO: Since beginning to seriously pursue art in the past year, I have found so many avenues that I am excited about exploring in the years to come. I would love to do children’s book illustration and freelance illustration in addition to my personal artwork.
I studied art while I was in college and believed at that time that gallery representation was the sole path for the working artist. One of the things I love about the Internet is that it has unlocked the potential for artists to make a living off their artwork. Whole communities are sprouting up online for artists to show and sell their work directly to people all over the world.
CC: How has motherhood changed you creatively?
CO: I think motherhood has changed every fiber of my being. When I quit my job right before my daughter was born, I planned to stay home with her because my job at a senior center didn’t pay enough to cover the expense of daycare. As a family we decided to live really frugally for a few years; walk instead of drive and make do with what we already had. I had always planned to go back to work.
What I hadn’t planned for was the postpartum depression I sank into in the months following her birth. It developed when she was 3-4 months old, exacerbated by my brother’s suicide. I really struggled to maintain a sense of self, but being a “stay-at-home mom” really didn’t fulfill me in the way I thought it should. It wasn’t until I started working on little craft projects that I was able to get my footing again. I studied art in college, but gave up making art after graduation while I worked various jobs. The gift of motherhood has been my return to art making. In the past year, I’ve gone from making a little needle felted pin for my friend’s birthday to showing and selling my work online and in my community.
CC: Where do you do your creative work?
CO: I have taken over our small spare bedroom. It’s on the main floor of our house, which has proven to be very convenient. I can go in and work on a few things in between fixing snacks, reading stories, and playing with my daughter.
CC: Do you have a schedule for your creative work?
CO: I have a few times each week devoted to art making; specifically, one weekday morning when my daughter goes to daycare and Saturday mornings. My daughter had been an excellent nap-taker until recently, so I’m adjusting to our new no-nap routine. I’ve recently tried getting up before her and getting a bit of time that way. Otherwise, I wait until she has gone to bed.
CC: What do you struggle with most?
CO: Time, energy, and guilt-all three, for the good part of every day.
CC: Where do you find inspiration?
CO: Looking at other blogs and Flickr illustration/drawing groups inspire me each day. I also tend to check out stacks of library books on any particular subject that I am drawn to. (However, I don’t always get the chance to read them!)
CC: What are your top 5 favorite blogs?
CC: What is your greatest indulgence?
CO: Art supplies, especially new watercolor paints. Oh, and naps. Delicious naps!
CC: What are you reading right now?
CO: Middlemarch by George Eliot.
CC: What advice would you offer to other mothers struggling to find the time and means to be more creative?
CO: The first thing I would like to suggest is that if a mother is feeling blue, to see her doctor right away. Get help, and when you’re feeling better, make something about your experience.
CC: Thank you, Carrie!
Jan 1
Every year on January 1st (or I should face it, at least before or in February), I write down a wish and a resolution or promise for the New Year. The wish is meant to be big, seemingly impossible, the resolution is meant for real work on self. I light a candle, and get my reluctant family in on the act. We burn the old after reading them, and write the new. They can be kept to oneself or shared, but they must be written down. I prefer to share. K prefers to keep secret. Being who I am, I usually peek at his sometime in the first week, when he’s not around. Over the years, I’ve had some very pleasant surprises unfold in my sneakiness — my favorite is the year I read “be a better big brother to S.” We place the new resolutions and wishes under the candle, blow it out and keep them there for the year, until the next round. That’s when we see if we kept promises, met resolutions and if a million dollars showed up in the mailbox. One year the wish was a house, and we got this one that year! Burning the slips of paper is a good way to not hold onto/feel guilty about what you didn’t meet, and to start fresh again. Making a ritual of your intentions gives them more heft, too.
Just making one resolution and writing it down, makes it more plausible to actually meet it. It’s too easy to make a bunch of promises and then blow them off. Mine for 2008 was/is “to be a more involved mother and wife.” I like to think that was easily met, especially after bedrest pregnancy ended. I’ve made individual time with each boy on a pretty regular basis — not in a regimented manner like “Yes, I will go to a café with K every Saturday… I will play a game with S on Tuesdays.” I hold, love, and appreciate Baby C almost constantly. My husband and I can still work on making us time a priority, but I think it’s miles away from last year’s and earlier this year’s frantic yells from my bed for my latest ‘need’ and his frantic running to and fro to help me or get the boys to help him do so. I am very appreciative of him for having put up with me in such a state. I’m so glad it’s over and I can show that to him now. Not that I’m great at doing so, but I’m trying. After all, I made a promise I intend to keep. Maybe I’ll continue this resolution into 2009, but I’d really like to make another. I’m still thinking what I’d like to focus on next. Maybe it’s actively appreciating what is great about my life: my family, my creativity and its actual production of late, and taking better care of myself. Maybe instead of wishing for a million dollars, I’ll wish for a bestselling novel. The one I’m working on will be finished by February. I better get cracking on this resolution. There’s room for improvement in every area of my life. I really need to narrow this down.
Jan 1
Well, our little blog is one year old today. We’ve grown from a single person (me) to a rich community of bloggers, commenters, and silent friends. We had more than 25,975 page views in 2008. We wrote 285 posts and tallied 1,705 comments. In February we started the Monday Page for posting periodic goals and commenting on those goals. On May 1, we launched a weekly creativity contest and since posted 36 weekly prompts. Breakfast, our weekly (now bi-weekly) profile of a creative mother from the blogoshpere, began in June. We’ve since visited with 26 amazing women who are turning their creative dreams into reality.
I’ve made some true friends through this blog this year — women that I think about and care about, every day. I am so grateful for the learning and shared experiences of motherhood and creativity that have materialized through our virtual connection. The inspiration is invaluable. Thank you to all the regulars, as well as to those who pop in on occasion to say hi — and to those who visit with us but prefer to stay anonymous. You are all part of what makes this a special place.
I’d like to give special thanks to Cathy Coley, who unfailingly comments on every post, contributes her own blog post every week, always enters the weekly contest, posts to the Monday Page, and in general serves as a leader in our community. I appreciate everything you do, Cathy!
I look forward to seeing Creative Construction’s continued growth in 2009 — and I can’t wait to see what all of you creative women pull off this year. I hope that your 2009 is full of love, happy and healthy children, and more creative joy than you can even imagine.
Studio Mothers: Life & Art 