February 6, 2024

Moving down the field one yard at a time

Like many other artists, I spent a lot of time waiting for someone to care. I waited for someone to say, “Hey, you’re good at this. We could sell this. It’s good enough to make a living off. You’re a working, professional, successful artist now.”

The problem with this is that, even if it was possible, it’s highly unlikely. There will be no long days in the studio where you can work contently for 12 hours a day, everyday, funded by a kind or generous patron or your own work. If I keep waiting for that, I’ll die waiting.

Instead, I’ll move the ball down the field one yard at a time. An hour before work, a couple of hours after work, every extra frame I sketch and ink is another inch further down the field of having a completed project. And, once I’ve reached the end zone, it’s unlikely there will be a crowd waiting to cheer, there will be no celebratory victory. I might treat myself to a nice dinner, but then, I’ll just turn around and start moving the ball down the field in again, one yard at a time.

Other observations
March 3, 2026

The ancestors are speaking

What might we be able to tell ourselves and listen for in order to provoke more positive energy and action in our art practice?

February 24, 2026

Can I do this?

Where does the motivation for beginning mark making come from? Why would I even try in the first place?

February 17, 2026

Visibility and confidence

How might we become less reliant on other people’s reaction to our work and the confidence to make more of it?

February 10, 2026

Proof of existence

Why do I feel compelled to share my work with anyone at all? Isn’t it enough just to make it for me?

February 3, 2026

Something beyond raw materials

Some work, like some meals, stand out more than others. So what’s on the plate or canvas that goes beyond ingredients or paint?

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