Preparing to be Captured -- Part Two

I owe you an update on my last post of the Old Year, don't I? And I also owe you an apology for not writing hard and heavy about my Fest Season and the months that followed. So much Magick happened, of course, and I think I get overwhelmed then and just don't know where to start....

In any event, in that last post of 2018: two weekends of Fest remaineth, I was nervously preparing to be photographed at some point, I'd just Amazon Prime'd myself a costume dress so I could look like a girl in the pic if I wished, and I was learning that the weekend of the shoot would be the first iffy-weather one of the season.

So I packed layers and costume pieces and choices. I practiced my smile....

Then Saturday dawned COLD. I'd slept in a sleeping bag on my shop floor the night before and I swear when I woke that my bones were ice. I needed layers, so I opted for shapeless 'boy clothes' -- long-sleeved shirt, jerkin, leather vest, wool coat, leggings, boots, the works. I loved the look and I felt confident! But I'll admit: although black is my favorite color, it probably doesn't allow for a great picture.... (Except for that one above: a selfie put through the Prisma app. I love it.)

The day got busy and time passed and I forgot about the possibility of being photographed. And when I did remember, I rather hoped that Mr. Edwards had secretly taken his pic from afar so that I was totally unaware....

Although he insisted that he could make our shoot 'painless', when he did arrive I fell apart inside -- instantly filled with anxiety -- and the brief little session was everything I'd feared.

Stand here.
Turn this way.
Look at me.
Chin down.
Slight smile.
Give me 'coy.'

Ugh; I was my own worst enemy! I brought the anxiety, I brought the awkwardness....

Maybe it's the posing that breaks me? Maybe it's having to look right at the lens? Once finished, he turned the digital camera window to me and said, "See how nice this is?" as he zoomed in on my face. I already had my hands over my eyes. I couldn't look....

What was I so afraid I'd see, anyway? A panicked person trying to hide from the lens? The little girl who always looked so freaky in school pics?

I don't like this about myself. I've been this way FOREVER. Photo Day at school was almost as anxiety-inducing as Vaccination Day, and the resulting snaggle-toothed pics that the teacher would show off (with glee, I swear) in front of the class was proof positive that the camera and I were NOT friends....

Photo taken by and courtesy of Sarah D. Butcher

Not long ago, my Eldest (who takes amazing pics) took some candid shots of my parents together and made one into a large canvas print for them as a Christmas gift. Because she lives so far away she couldn't be there when they unwrapped it. But I was. Mom took one look at that photo and laughed her lungs out. Laughed so hard she cried! And then when she caught her breath again there were comments along the lines of, "Good gawd, what a sight!" and "Imagine having to look at THAT in the mirror every day, haha!"

I was CRUSHED.... Because when I saw that photo it brought tears to my eyes. Suddenly I  wanted to grab it from Mom, rescue the woman in that pic, shelter her from the laughter, and bring her home where I could look at her with love. Like she deserved.

Mom couldn't look at her own face in that photo without cringing and laughing with embarrassment. What was so funny, so cringeworthy about that face? Did mom look at herself and see her mother? And was that so bad?....

These are ALL my face. And that's OK.

I swear to God at the time I did not see myself in that moment. But I do now.... Just recalling it as I type brings to the forefront all the feels and confusion and tangles and knots about my relationship with my face and how I imagine others see it.

And what I'm learning could fill another blog post.

And maybe it will someday....

Mr. Edwards visited my shop on the final Fest weekend. "Well, you're off the hook," he said. "I didn't like any of the pics." Part of me wanted to say, "I told you so," but I didn't. I was secretly relieved, though.

He promised to return that final Sunday for another try but didn't make it out to Fest again before the season ended, and that's OK. Because between now and next season, my face and I have some inner work to do.
...

Funko Pop ME Needs to Happen!

I have lots of Funko Pop characters around the house and in my studio because they're CUTE and I can't help myself. (James can't either.) And one morning at the studio I drew myself as one as a warm-up exercise:

I love that my figurine comes with lots of STUFF!

Of course, the 'extras' would be AMAZING. Not only would I come with all the above bits, but they could be changed out for other stuff!:

• an additional assortment of pets: a starling(!), a pair of lovebirds, a colorful little rooster with a bowtie, a fuzzy 'Lucas'-like spider, a shiny cornsnake, a stickbug, a mantid, a toad, a housemouse, and MORE,
• towers of books!,
• a musical instrument that can be swapped for the sketchbook and pencils under the arm,
• colorful hairchalks for that I-can't-decide-what-color-I-want-to-feel-like-today look!,
• black Chuck Taylors to replace the boots,
• a cloud of monarch butterflies and/or a herd of monarch caterpillars,
• an assortment of necklaces, leather bracelets, and silver rings,
• a backpack full of buttons: 'MN Nice,' 'Watch Less, Read More,' 'Sorry, I'm Awkward, Sorry,'
• a Hufflepuff house scarf,
• and a Cloak of Invisibility!

Seriously, my Funko Pop self would be expensive as hell to produce but would still be a big old HIT.

Well, at least to me!

...

Me and the 'M' Word

These are just Ones but they still make me nervous....

Exactly a year ago I wrote a pre-Fest post that I never finished and never published....

It was all about the 'M' word -- 'money' -- and how I just can't seem to wrap my head around it.

I joke that I'm allergic to money. I know people who are killing themselves to earn it, and others who are asshats because of it. Money makes me anxious, it keeps me awake at night. I hate thinking about it; it ties my stomach up in knots....

Yes, I get that money "makes the world go 'round" and all that. I may be silly but I do understand why it exists. And I do understand how ridiculous it is to pretend it's not important.

But dang. I wish it wasn't so necessary....

Now that the Fest season is looming again the 'M' word is uppermost on my mind. I'm forced to once again acknowledge that dollar sign, make tentative eye contact with it, awkwardly renew our strange little relationship and dance the uncomfortable dance of commerce. Because I have a business (if you can even call it that) Fest's seven busy weekends are essentially all about the Making of Money; there's no getting around it. And if I'm smart I'll figure out a way for the two of us to get the heck along. Learn those dance steps already. Take it to the next level....

Ideas for this year's products have been fleshed out, and now they need printing, packaging, framing. Sums are adding up quickly and I already have costs to recoup, more bills to pay.... I must sell my work in order to pay those bills. And then sell it some more so I can hopefully live frugally again for another year so I can do it all over again.

Fest -- aka The Minnesota Renaissance Festival -- is my primary gig now. I used to do other shows, but doing so took its toll, and now that I'm the age I am I find that all the travel and set-up drains me almost as much as the Meet-and-Greet. And although I can apparently act like an extrovert when necessary, the recovery time needed afterward is phenomenal, and I eventually discovered that Fest was about as much spotlight as I could take; the remainder of the year gave me barely enough time to bounce back.

But I couldn't give up art shows completely. Fest was my first, it's where I began. And I found that being somewhere where folks can find me, see me, meet me, talk with me, is somehow tremendously important to my sales (boom: my Catch22). I'd have thought just the opposite, frankly -- that I'd be my own worst enemy -- but my records show that I have far better sales when I'm in attendance and actively engaged than when I'm not. So it helps a LOT to 'gird my loins,' step out of my comfort zone, and make the most of every Fest moment, and I do what I can.

Even though Fest is seasonal and occurs for only seven weekends in the fall, it keeps my boat afloat from one year to the next. But just barely. And only if conditions are right. Throw in some bad weather (or a host of other unforeseen predicaments/situations) and the final numbers can be disastrous. It doesn't take much. Even an afternoon of Too Many Chatty Friends Crowding Out Too Few Buying Customers can send me over the money cliff....

I know I could do better. I'm just not sure how, exactly. I don't want to be That Artist who goes for everyone's wallet. I've been around artists like that, who can't bother to be nice until you show them the color of your cash.... I want those who visit my Fest shop to walk away with a good memory, even if they don't buy anything.

Well-meaning folks tell me that I need to 'take my business seriously' (I do, don't I??) and they offer me suggestions: Illustrate their e-story/children's book/graphic novel 'for the exposure.' Draw more birds of prey with 'something dead in their talons.' Create cartoony caricatures of impossibly-proportioned female superheroes, or draw manga/anime vampires, or otherwise fill-in-the-blank. Others tell me to suck it up already and sell my work as tattoo flash. Or design calendars, license my characters, do a Mary Engelbreit and create an arty empire!

The list goes on....

And I listen. I really do. All are sound ideas even if some of them give me the heebie-jeebies. Few of them interest me, though -- I want to draw what I want to draw.... Plus, the logistics of making their suggestions happen is all so weird and complicated to me. Tattoo flash? Calendar printing? Licensing?? None of those things just happen. They require something that I don't have. Money, for one thing. Connections, for another. And for the rest I really wouldn't know where to start.

Not only that but the seven weekends of Fest already feel like Big (Scary) Business to me. In addition to being around-the-clock work, they also mean having to step out of my comfort zone so dang far that I have to retreat to the rabbit hole immediately afterward. Plus, I get as much attention there as I could ever want in my entire life.

So it's my own fault that I'm not as successful as maybe I could be.

Imagining my art on Hot Topic t-shirts or in the pages of Faerie Magazine is both fun and frightening. And even the happy little fantasy of it in my head feels like too much attention. That Mary Engelbreit-like empire sounds terrifying, too. I can't help but equate it with being rich and famous, which to me is one of the Seven Levels of Hell.

I know I should be 'in it to win it.' Or if winning isn't my thing, I should at least run with intent. I have a business, after all; maximizing my profits should be my goal, right? But the money part isn't what's important to me about being an artist. Creating things that make people smile is. I just wish brightening a person's day could also pay an artist's bills....

It frequently frustrates me to be that person who can't seem to figure this art thing out, especially since I've been doing it forever and am still just as clueless. And it doesn't help that I'm surrounded by a host of creative folks who are winning the game. I know they're savvy and work HARD, yet in comparison they make it look like boom, boom, boom -- success! What does that tell me? That for all my decades of trying to do this thing, I still suck so badly at it that maybe I should just throw in the towel.

But I can't throw in the towel. I might not be a businessperson, but I am an artist. I love what I do! Especially when it brightens someone's day. When that happens, the feeling is inde-freakin'-scribable. It's as if my heart blew a gentle kiss and it came back full circle like a solid-gold boomerang at full speed to knock the wind out of me and fill me up again x 10. WHOOSH. I just want to do it all again -- wash, rinse, repeat.

That process -- idea, creation, share, surprise, smile -- defines my work and why I do it. Add money into the equation and it tips the scales negatively. Something doesn't work out right. Does that make sense? I can't explain it.... It's like I'm happiest when I'm creating art in secret, to be gifted to an unsuspecting soul who just needs a pick-me-up. I don't even need to see them receive it! I don't even need to know who they are. Just creating that art with the intention of sharing it is healing for me somehow; it fills my well, and I do it as much for myself as I do it with others in mind. Going on then to imagine that my creation will be just what that person needs when they need it most is satisfying to me. Almost like payment.

Almost.

But in the Real World it's not at all like payment. And payment is important.

Maybe I just need the right someone who can take what I do and make it work for me, financially as well as spiritually. Maybe I just need a big-ass dose of Art Management, or a semester of Biz101, or simply some sense knocked into me.

Or perhaps I'm just an artist who fears success. Ouch.

Still....

I find that rereading this post kind of makes me like myself. Go figure.

And that's a surprise that I needed today.
...

Lesson One

After Monday's post about stepping sideways off the pathway I've been keeping my eyes peeled. Paying attention....

And on today's walk I watched for clues. Messages from the Universe about what it is exactly that I'm supposed to be learning.

I kept my mind open. Loose. I engaged my senses....

I noticed robins in the rowan tree.

And snowdrifts etched by the wind into the diamond skyscrapers of miniature ice cities.

I heard the over-wintered leaves of an oak tree applauding my progress, the tinkle of a windchime caught up in the breeze, the 'cheeseburger!' call of chickadees, the trickle of snowmelt as it collected at the curb and laughed its way to the storm drain.

I smelled woodsmoke, perfumed dryer sheets, someone's barbecue, spring.

I felt moisture on my cheek and tasted road salt on the air.

And I discovered these on my path: a fancy paperclip and a silk maple leaf from someone's autumnal arrangement.

The message (as I interpret it):

"Lost your place? You'll find it in Nature."

Let the learning begin.
...

Stepping Sideways Off the Path

I sense that foggy, cotton-wool feeling. The shadows on my periphery.

I expect to find my routine suddenly shaken, my mind on walkabout, the door to the rabbit hole ajar, and me about to slip inside and pull it closed over my head....

Maybe you're feeling like this, too?

At these times it helps me to write, but not necessarily to share (although I'll try to; perhaps if I do I'll even discover like-minded kindred souls Out There who can maybe identify....).

Facebook is out of the question. Facebook just annoys me when I'm like this, when I'm contemplating the rabbit hole.... It reminds me that there are folks in my world who aren't feeling lost and out of sync, folks like everyone else who are going about their normal lives watching cat videos and taking 'Which Jersey Shore Character Are You?' quizzes and posting pictures of their lunch.

Plus, I feel too exposed or something on Facebook.

But blogging might just work. I need to type; feel my fingers move. I'm safe here. It feels like a one-way connection. Like me just talking aloud to myself. And that's OK.

But, just to be on the safe side: if YOU'RE here, IF you're here, if you're reading this, please think kind thoughts, 'k? Tolerant, sensitive, open-minded thoughts. I don't mean to sound all woo-woo kookyheaded I'm-losing-my-mind (and I hope you're not taking it that way); I just need to open all three of my eyes, step sideways into the unknown, allow myself to be fairy-led, take notes, see what happens. I sense that I'm supposed to be learning something.... Something important....

And I can't do that if I'm spending all my time trying so hard to -- do what, exactly?? -- appear 'normal?' Act like a generic human bean? Not sure. All I know is that today my weird energies have reached some sort of zenith. (Could it have something to do with the Equinox?) Even my dreams have been out-there exotic, so there's no 'sleeping it off' for me.... I have to pay attention.

So, just bear with me while I do this. Or leave me, because that's OK and I'll understand.

But you just might learn something, too. In which case, we can hold hands and learn something
together.
...