stuff about artstuff.

It's True, It's Really Happened.

Yup.

Those of you who know me personally already know that as a weird super-private introvert I entered into the world of social media sort of kicking and screaming a little.  Ok, a lot.  I've dipped my toes slowly and cautiously into each new thing I've tried, squinting, covering my eyes . . . only to eventually wonder why I made such a big deal out of it in the first place.  Well, sort of.

I haven't exactly been out there looking for new media to share on - but it had started to feel like all these things I'm doing are just floating around by themselves randomly in space, unrelated, just doing their own things.  What I needed was a magnet to pull them all together into one neat and tidy place.  Well, duh.

Twitter.

When discussing Twitter with friends who'd known me for a long time, I'd noticed that when I joked, "I'm pretty sure I'm physically incapable of expressing myself in 140 characters or less" they never argued that point, rather, thoughtfully and contemplatively agreed with the statement.  They already know my challenges: it's hard enough for me that my arms waving all over the place while I talk is not translatable to the written word.

I came to this decision last week when I was really pretty sick, so there's a chance this whole thing could all just be the fever talking - but while we're still here floating on the lingering fumes of my homemade holistic cold and flu remedies why don't you join me out there in Twitterland and let's see how this thing works.

You'll notice the little birdie above shows up as a link in my sidebar: click it to find me there!

And really.  As if there has ever been any question as to where those boxes of ugly old Christmas sweaters go when they die?  You always knew it was true; my weird little drawing just confirms that fact.

NYC in May

I've been going to New York every May for 15 years now.  The first 14 of those were spent exhibiting at Surtex.  It's where I built the foundation for my art licensing business; it's where I met favorite clients and dear friends, it's where I learned and grew into the businessperson I am today.

This year, however, has been different.  The art licensing industry, and life in general for that matter, is a living, changing, organic thing: growing, stretching, twisting - never the same.  Growing and stretching with it (or when possible, just ahead of it!) is necessary for survival.  Change is good!  And it was time for a change.  For me and my business, focus has been the key word this past year.  Focusing on work I love to do, people and companies I love to work with, art I love to create.  Exibiting at the show had started to get in the way of that for me.  It was a big decision.  A long, slow, sometimes difficult one.  But then change can be like that.  And after all is said and done, I feel an incredible sense of peace and satisfaction about it.

I still ended up in New York in May, but this time it was with a very specific and focused agenda.  I visited my friends at Henry Glass, whose offices are there.  I got to spend time with a few other favorite clients who were in the city for Surtex.  I helped a good friend out in her booth a little bit, and was able to walk through NSS and Surtex and soak in all the great energy and inspiration those shows had to offer.  And best of all, I spent quality time with some of my favorite people, really enjoying the city.  Amazing friends graciously opened their homes and entertained me - it was a blast, all of it.

The sky over the Metropolitan Museum of Art - from inside and out on the rooftop

A people-watching stroll through Central Park

An awesome time with good friends at the NSS Party on the Battery, what a gorgeous night

Stunning dogwood blooms in Sue Zipkin's garden.

Feeling so blessed to have such great friends and to work with such awesome people, and to have the opportunity to spend time with them all like I did.

Here's to New York in May, hooray!

Atlanta Gift Mart 2014

Wow, so there was that.

I've been home since Monday but still haven't really come down yet.  And haven't unpacked all the way yet, but we won't talk about that right now.

The Mart is always an exercise in overwhelmingness.  Over the top sensory overload in every possible way, so much so you can't really escape it at night when you close your eyes.  You'd think that all the cocktail receptions might help with that, but no, not really.  Close your eyes at night and all you can see is colors, products, people talking, more products, more colors, stuff people people stuff stuff stuff . . . or maybe that's just me who does this.

We've already determined that I don't get out much.

At any rate it's an intense crazy experience, super fun, and super productive.

Atlanta was just coming out of single-digit temperatures when I arrived late Wednesday night.  It was still pretty cold out when I hit the ground running the next morning.  The next few days there was drizzle, dramatic downpours, flash-flood warnings, tornado warnings . . . I mean, come on Atlanta.  You're just showing off now.

I was ridiculously giddy about running to a few showrooms first to finally meet my new products in person; these were all projects that were started after meetings at last year's Gift Mart - what a treat to get to see the items like this after everyone's hard work on them last year.  These items are not in stores yet - but there were retailers placing orders for them at the show so they should start hitting store shelves by spring.  I'll keep you posted when I know more.

First stop, my Fairy Garden collection at Blossom Bucket...

"Hello there little bug, how are you?"

"I'm so happy that you turned out so cute."

Oh yeah, I totally talked to them.

And these guys

ermagerd.

There are little doors for your tree trunks, little tables, chairs, accessories . . . I seriously can't wait for spring to start playing with this stuff in my own yard.

I used to create these kinds of vignettes in the woods when we'd go camping, with pine cones and moss and rocks and sticks and stuff.  Resin figures drawn by me?  Forget about it.  I am on it.  I am 7 again.

And my pets collection, also in the Blossom Bucket showroom.

Really cool for me that my dear friend Shelly's adorbs dog and cat figurines were scattered around with mine in the display.  I love it when my stuff and my friends' stuff gets to be friends, too.  Along with the figurines are treat jars, pet mats, leash-hooks, wall art, and more.

I almost cried when I saw the tiny Flossies.

This collection was extra special for me because I created all of it during my last month with my precious little white beastie on my lap.  She oversaw every detail.  See all the sketchy little cross-hatch work in the flat pieces?  You might remember this video of her while I was drawing it.

And there were spring garden flags in the Carson Home Accents showroom, love how these turned out!

My little birdies around my head and my Easter eggs below.  The Easter eggs are actually sparkly (you know I love that!) and the egg colors are actually really bright and fresh in person, but they photograph sort of greyish because of the sparkles.

I think I squeeeeed out loud once again when I saw my cupcake tabletop collection on display in the Transpac showroom.  I've seen photos, but in person . . . a-whole-nother thing.  I'm not accustomed to seeing my drawings translated into 3D - this is all still fairly new to me and soooooo exciting.

I'm also really happy with my Les Veggies kitchen goodies by Transpac - those of you with the La Cuisine recipe binders will soon be able to coordinate the rest of your kitchen as matchy-poo as can be.  I love this!

And Transpac also printed some really nice wall canvases with my designs

including . . . my favorite:

Ok, I think there may be one or two 1980s Cornish alumni out there reading this: who remembers this quote?  A certain college president and his answer to every problem?  I'd been wanting to put it on a design for years, and finally did.

There were other Beth Logan goodies in other places, but we can talk about that another time.  I think we've all had about enough of me me me me me for now.

One of the best things about this show is the opportunity all of us self-employed work-at-home artists get to meet up and share - it's a big lovey hug-fest of ginormous proportions.  I mean, really.  It totally is.  I am so blessed to be part of an industry where these kind and gifted people are my colleagues, my friends, my confidantes . . . this amazing group of crazy-talented folks is the best.

This picture represents only the ones who were able to stand still long enough for the photo, many others at this get-together were still milling about outside the frame, and others were still busy with meetings and signings back at the Mart while this was going on.

But what this crazy picture is: it's a veritable Who's Who of the Art Licensing industry.  Do you live on the earth?  Do you own stuff?  Have you ever received cards or gifts?  Then you have things with these people's art on it.  And guess what?  They're all really neat folks.  You'd like them.

A whirlwind of meetings, receptions, meet & greets, dinners, research & trend-spotting, shopping (!) and suddenly it was my last day there: gorgeous and sunny and in the 60s.  After days of quick cab-rides through the cold rain, I finally got my chance to leisurely stroll through the park back to my hotel,

soaking in the sun (it's been a while since I've soaked in 60-degree sunshine),

people-watching,

and feeling good about all I accomplished business-wise

...and shopping-wise.

I smiled as the sun set on my trip,

and I knew that soon I would be home . . . back to jammie pants and fuzzy socks, cuddling with Molly, Ted, and Husband Guy here in my quiet, plain, comfortable little house.  There's no place like home.

And now the show follow-up...

Good Reads

Fun fact: the last 3 books I have read are all by female authors that I know.  No, like, I really really know-them know-them.  It shouldn't be that weird; I mean, it's not unusual for me to listen to music by people I know, surround myself with art by people I know . . . but for some reason this is a new one for me.  Yes, I do have other friends who are amazingly gifted writers, but they haven't been running out and publishing novels left and right.  Yeah, I know.  As if it were just that easy, right?  Which, I suppose, makes this even that much more special. 

I was pretty excited when my friend Stephanie published her first novel earlier this year.  I know Stephanie from the wildlife center and animal-care has always been at the center of all our interactions - so was very curious to find out what kind of stuff comes out of the other side of her brain.  Then chatting with our new neighbor Monica in the alley one afternoon, I learned that she had recently published her first novel as well.

Although vastly different from each other, both King's Mark and Girl Under Glass are that kind of all-enveloping sci-fi fantasy that leaves the world we live in completely behind, and both managed to suck me right into those alternate worlds, making them hard to put down, and me a little sad when I was finally finished.  Sad because both are first in their series' and in each case they left me hungry for the next, and I tend to be very impatient that way - but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put on my patient hat (what does that look like anyway? I hope it's cute) and wait for both of them.

On the other end of the spectrum is Ronnie Walter's awesome new (and also first!) book License to Draw that couldn't be more about my own reality, and brought me right smack-dab back down into the real and present-day Earth (plop!) but in a good way.

I knew if anyone had the wit and insight to make the often harsh realities of the Art Licensing industry funny and enjoyable (while still being realistic!) it would be Ronnie.  Talented and super-funny, she's one of those warm, down-to-earth people you feel like you've known forever, even if you haven't.  Aside from the fact that she is married to the guy who wrote my go-to first place I send anyone who asks me about getting into the business, she has been doing this (quite successfully, mind you) much longer than me.  I say that as if it is significant because, well, sometimes lately I feel like I've been doing this for about a thousand years or so.

Which is why I'm so glad she wrote License to Draw, and even gladder that I read it.  By sharing her own story, Ronnie reminded me why I keep doing this.  I've said it many times: in this business the highs are ethereal and the lows can be heartbreaking.  It's a constant game of Chutes and Ladders, this thing we do.  And if after all these years of those ups and downs Ronnie has retained the fresh and positive outlook she shares in this book, this should inspire the rest of us licensing artists, even in our most wimpy or jaded moments.  And yes, we do have a knack for wimpy and jaded.  I mean, come on, we're artists.

The good news is those considering pursuing Art Licensing nowadays have a wealth of really great resources available (see my sidebar, or FAQ section!) as opposed to what it was like when I started doing it (remember? I trudged on foot from Seattle to New York every May for 14 years to exhibit at Surtex, barefoot, in the snow, uphill both ways, pulling a heavy case with my displays and portfolios behind me . . . well, part of that is true). 

Seriously though, I think License to Draw adds great perspective and insight and I really did find it to be an inspiration.  And if you happen to be one of those people (the ones who are considering pursuing this crazy licensing thing) this is definitely a must-read!

For those of you who aren't already familiar with Ronnie's honest, silly/serious style, you can get a peek into what she (and her book) are both like from this great interview on Monica Lee's Smart Creative Women:

 

Full Circle.

"I just make stuff I'd wear myself."

That's how she described what she did.  And for the better part of two decades, the only jewelry I wore was made by her.  I mean, when a best friend makes stuff you love, why even look elsewhere?  I used to have fun making jewelry sometimes, but my beads and stuff got buried in the basement over the years.  I never even thought of getting it out once she started making stuff.

"It's tempting when I'm making earrings to keep adding stuff and make them really long, but then I always find that the ones I wear the most are the super simple ones.  It's hard to hold back and keep them simple, but I always like those better."  She was right.  Some of those are still my go-to can't-live-without favorites.

 

Did I ever tell you how I got my start in business?

It was 1990.  In the years that followed dropping out of art school, I'd worked several strange and non-creative jobs.  Always threatening to "do something with my art" but never quite discovering what it was I wanted to do with it.

At the time I was painting on whatever I could get my hands on.  Mostly I was getting my hands on plant pots, picture frames, driftwood - weird stuff.  Sometimes I'd get my hands on a neat old piece of furniture or two.  People said, "you could totally sell those. You should start a business."

Yeah, a business.  With a business license.  That would be practical.  I should totally do that.

Practical wasn't exactly my strong suit, though.

That's where she came in.  My smart, practical, grounded - and talented - friend Dani.

Her amazing style sense: copied by everyone yet always unique.  And when she couldn't find exactly what she wanted to complete an outfit, she'd invent it.  It started with a few beads, a few earring hooks, some neat looking string.  She started making more and more, she couldn't stop.  People said, "you could totally sell those."  She said, "we should start a business."

"Let's start it as a partnership.  I'll sell my earrings, and you sell your painted stuff.  I'll do the paperwork and organizing stuff, and you can design our logo and anything else we need."

Ok, that sounds like a great idea.

We needed a name, "like a word that means nothing, but sounds cool."  She came over one day with a book of city names and a bottle of wine.

Ok, that sounds like a great idea.

We got through nearly the entire alphabet (and bottle of wine) with no hits.  Then we got to U:  Urbana.  That's a neat word.  Where is that?  I don't know, like, the Midwest somewhere. 

"Let's call it 'Urbana'."

Ok, that sounds like a great idea.

And we became proud owners of our very first business license.

Fun fact: when she told her mother the name of our new business, she just laughed.  "Why in the world would you name it that?" She explained our naming criteria.  "Well, dear, I'm afraid that word doesn't mean nothing to you.  You were conceived in Urbana, IL."

So much for that idea.  We still thought it was a neat sounding name, and continued along in our denial about it being a real city.  Or two.

We did a few street fairs, even Bumbershoot.  Be nice to street fair vendors, by the way, they have a really hard job.  Too hard for us, I'm afraid.  We wimped out after one season.  I found a few neat little shops to sell my painted stuff, and she found others to sell her jewelry.  Less schlepping, no worrying about rain leaking (or dumping) into our displays.  I designed advertising and packaging, and she filled out our taxes.  It worked out great for a couple years.

I found bigger things to paint (rooms in people's homes) and would do graphic design work when I could get it.  I started licensing designs with a couple local companies.   She became a mom and wasn't making much jewelry.  It was time for Urbana to become a sole-proprietorship, and the word "Artstuff" was tacked onto the name (a word, by the way, that she had made up).  She would still make jewelry once a year to sell at my holiday open house; my regular customers and all our friends looked forward to stocking up on earrings and necklaces for gifts and for ourselves.

Eventually Art Licensing overtook the rest and became the sole focus of my business, and when I incorporated, the "Urbana" got dropped and "Ltd." got added.

 

My friend Dani was the reason I ever started being at all serious about my art as an actual business.  The motivator, the paperwork-explainer and filler-outer, the driver and run-arounder, the tax-doer, the teacher.  Long after we were business partners, she worked as an agent for a bit and landed me a few magazine-illustration gigs.  The ways she influenced and inspired my business over the years go on and on.  From selling earrings, painted plant pots and driftwood mobiles to Art Licensing and everything in-between, she has been part of it all.

She was taken way too soon.  You know when the Universe hiccups and something wrong happens that was never supposed to, ever.  But it did.  All these years later, sometimes it still doesn't feel real.

One very minor detail of that loss didn't come up until much later: the first time a now-irreplaceable earring slid down the drain.  The dramatic and violent screaming, sobbing freakout finally subsided after the entire stupid pedestal sink had been ripped apart and the tiny trinket pulled from the thick, hairy/gooey drain-trap muck (thank you, Husband Guy).

Even faced with that stark reality, I still wasn't looking at other jewelry yet.  I'd avert my eyes or simply not focus on cute earrings in shops and boutiques; maybe it was just force of habit.  The thought of making jewelry myself was equally foreign.  It was 5 years later when Elizabeth suggested our afternoon at Shipwreck as a fun "halfway between us" get-together.  Hmh.  Beads.  I wouldn't have thought of that.

Ok, that sounds like a great idea.

I had a blast playing with those beads on vacation year before last, and this last month I packed up all my goodies to make more stuff while out at the cabin.  I started making earrings.  "Just stuff I'd wear myself."  Literally - I was just making a few pair, for me. 

But I couldn't stop.

These pretty little pressed glass beads from India were just too fun to play with.  I got color-drunk, like when I would get a new box of crayons as a kid.  They sort of remind me of beach glass: there's a real organic feel with the bubbles and irregularities.  And it was fun to pair them with some of my more bling-y beads and components.

I just kept making more.

And more.

She was right, it's sort of hard to hold back and keep from adding the kitchen sink to every pair.  But they needed to be something I would want to wear every day.  And they are - there are just way too many for me.

So I'll be selling them in my shop.  And I'm hoping this gives me an excuse to make more, because it's really, really fun for me.  There are just a few pair there now, but watch for more very soon.

I'm hoping that some of you might actually like to wear the same things that I would, because that's all they are, really.  Not crazy fancy.  Just little stuff I'd wear myself.

Not precious.

Just pretty.

Some little everyday trinkets, subconsciously inspired, I'm certain, by the super-simple elegance and grounded practicality of someone who helped shape me as a creative businessperson from the very beginning.

Jewlery my friend Dani created is not only unique and cool like she was, but now precious and irreplaceable.  I would never try to do what she did, but I can keep doing what I do: influenced, inspired, and in a way, hopefully honoring her "if-I-can't-find-something-just-right-I'll-make-it-myself" way of doing things.

Another Year, Another Surtex...

After months of preparations, planning, hard work and sleep deprivation, this
is the moment my heart goes thunk and I start feeling really excited.

That first night I'll usually check into my room, take a long shower and eat room service, and sleep like a rock.

I always sleep hard in NY.  Could be the relief that everything has fallen into place and I'm finally here, could be the fact that usually I haven't slept for the past month, could be the long day of travel,
or it could be the view from my bed makes me fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The rest of the week is always just a blur.

The show was great.  There was a hopeful, cheerful, positive vibe about the place. Others have been describing it as a glow, or special; using words like warm and happy.  Even with the rain-inside-the-convention-center drama on Monday morning.
Emergencies were responded to quickly, by those whose job it was to respond, and by neighboring exhibitors - at least in our corner of the hall and from my point of view, folks seemed to be more about pitching in and helping each other than they were standing back and freaking out or worrying only about themselves.
It actually kind of reminded me of a little scrap of paper a dear friend of mine has been carrying around with her recently:

But enough about the leaky roof.  This post is about so much more than that.  Because the show was so much more than that.  Attendees were focused, serious, and positive - I didn't sense that underlying hesitation that many of them had in recent years.  It felt a little more like "the old days" before we all started to get so jaded and distrustful - before everyone started to feel so beat-up.

It feels good to feel good again.  Although those of us who kept exhibiting throughout those years have always remained hopeful (which has paid off well for many of us!) we remember those years where exhibitors would peer down the aisles like empty streets in a post-apocolyptic wasteland: fearful, hungry, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting traveler who dares tread on our show carpet only to find they are only artists walking the show and gathering information; huddled together for warmth and comfort between our booths, twitching and hollow-eyed, whispering "it's never been this slow on a Sunday (or Monday, or Tuesday) before. Isn't this usually the busy day? I'm worried..." 

What, you think I'm exaggerating?  Me?

Personally, I have had pretty awesome shows the last few years, I haven't been just saying that to be nice.  I have signed some great new contracts after the last few shows, and have seen direct results from meetings held in my booth.  But what seems significant this time around is that the mood - the air- feels different now, like we're all starting to trust each other again, like that weird desperation in the air is behind us, and actually forgotten. 

I had some great meetings during the show - having that chance to sit down and chat face-t0-face with some of my favorite clients, to talk about artwork and products and what we've done and what we will do next: it's truly invigorating and inspiring. Then, of course, there are the new ones: those people you immediately feel that "click" with and know deep down that you will be able to do great things together.  This is why I do this.

Walking the show aisle on the first day, I ran into one of those favorite clients who stopped me, reached deep down into a giant bag and pulled these out:
These beautifully-made nesting boxes are the result of one of those kinds of meetings at my booth just last year.  The design: straight off my booth walls!  They'll be in stores later this year, I'll keep you posted as to when and where!  The quality and attention to detail: perfect.  I couldn't be happier!

Seeing industry friends is always a highlight of Surtex.  It may seem strange to others when I admit that this is often the only time I see friends from WA state (yes, we need to fix this!) but I thought it was kind of cute how my Warshington-Girls Jane Shasky and Sharyn Sowell and I coordinated so perfectly with Sharyn's beautiful artwork.

And the words on my own booth walls pretty much say it all here with two of my favorite people on the face of this earth: my beautiful, talented friends Amber Alvarez and Sue Zipkin.

My artwork, especially what you see right here, has been truly inspired by these amazing friendships.  Who knew one's heart could burst with overwhelming love, admiration, and gratitude in the middle of a stressful and expensive trade show?  I think in most industries, these other people are referred to as "the competition" and not "best friends".  Go figure.  Again, luckiest girl in the world.

I suppose no New York trip recap is complete without mentioning the food.  Although spending long days inside a trade show booth isn't really your typical New York gastronomic extravaganza (thank you Sue my dear, for saving the day with this delicious and indulgent fruit salad!).

Although I did enjoy some amazing and delicious restaurant meals during the week, usually after a long day in Javits Center, our favorite thing is to slide back into t-shirts and jeans and slip into our favorite pub for some comfort food

or of course, the simplest and most beautiful New York food there is:
A slice of cheese for stay.  Mmmmmm.

And then, just like that, the show was over.

I love walking in New York.  One of my favorite strolls of the entire year is the one back to the hotel the evening after the show ends.  Suddenly I notice things I missed on the previous days: favorite buildings
or even street eyeballs.

It's a smidge inconvenient for those of us who exhibit at Surtex and also design fabric that Spring Quilt Market and Surtex seem to always bump into each other or completely overlap, but once again this year I was fortunate to get to spend an afternoon with my friends at Henry Glass Fabrics the day after Surtex ended. 

We enjoyed a mouthwateringly delicious lunch, along with the talented and charming Delphine Cubitt and her lovely agent Diane Potter, followed by a (much-longer-than-I-realized) meeting and mega brainstorming session at the Henry Glass offices to discuss new projects.  What fun!
The walk to and from their offices was inspiring, from the cityscapes that I always love soaking in
to the fabulous gowns in the shop windows (what do you think, can I pull it off?)
although sadly, on my way to lunch my right shoe blew apart and required an emergency gorilla-glue stop; not pretty, but it seemed to work.  And on the way back to the hotel that evening, the left one blew apart even more dramatically, twirling through the air in an amazingly trapeze-like flourish (Husband Guy to the rescue: he quickly ran inside a liquor store and came back with a foot long piece of tape!).  Upon closer inspection back at the hotel I saw that both soles were starting to crack as well, and I had to say goodbye to an incredibly comfortable and beloved old pair.  It was just all so sudden, but they were done.  Sigh.

The city was wet and muggy on the day we left, making it a little easier to say goodbye for another year
and even nicer to return home again
where my heart's desire remained, as always, here in my own back yard.

There's No Place Like Home.

Welcome!

I'm starting the year with something new and different (for me, that is!). I've been invited to join an uber-talented group of artist friends in a fun blog hop.  We're touring everybody's studios, how fun is that?!  It's a virtual Open-Studio tour!

You get a fun peek inside the creative spaces of 11 (yes count 'em, 11) designing friends of mine (plus me, of course).  Just click on the names at the end of this post to tour each of their studios and visit their blogs, or simply use the forward/backward arrows (also after my post) to continue along the hop!

A special thank-you shout-out to our charming (and did I mention talented?) host, The Mr. Aaron Christensen of Aaron Christensen's Embellishments, for organizing this crazy party, and for creating the fabulous graphics you see at the beginning and end of this post.  Sooo . . . without further ad0, let the tour commence!

As they say on those celebrity home tours, "and this is where the magic happens."

In this case, the magic happens in a teeny tiny room in my teeny tiny house.  It's not glamorous, spacious, airy, or usually even tidy - but it's home.  It's where I spend my days, and often my nights.  It's where I create.

I paint.

I draw. 

I'm at the computer. 

It all happens right here.

Usually with a cat on my lap

(or inside my shirt)

and a dog at my feet.

If she's not on me, Flossie is in one of her many beds or perched on the printer, watching birds in the trees and the rest of the backyard.

One of my favorite quotations is the William Morris golden rule: "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful."  Beauty, of course, is in the eye of the beholder and my other golden rule is my Granddad's credo:

...and like my Granddad and Granny were, I'm happiest when I'm surrounded by my treasures.  In a space this tiny, though, storage is at a premium.

If it's not organized, it may as well not exist.  As cluttered as it gets (and it does get cluttered) there is always order to this chaos.

Bolts of fabric, handmade items for Etsy, product samples, and a giant flat-file full of large originals and prints all live quietly and out of sight in in an ever so mysterious room at the bottom of the stairs. No one ever goes there but me (well, no one has ever lived to speak of it).

I used to dream of spreading my creative wings in a large, airy studio - the same as I longed for a large, airy kitchen.  But I've got to admit, there's something very comforting about having the things I need within my reach   
 

  

and the things I love within my sight.      

   
 
 

Because really, there's no place like home.

Ok, now I'll answer those burning questions I know you're asking yourself:

Q. Why the heck does she have a piece of carpet glued to her Wacom?

A. Because I'm one of those lefties who holds my hand all backwards and the left-side scrolly bars go bezerk when I draw if I don't keep them covered.

Q. Why would someone keep a framed photo of the Next Generation crew front-and-center in her workspace? Is she that huge of a geek?

A. Well, yes I probably am that huge of a geek, but that's actually a favorite photo of my dear old dad posing with cardboard cutouts at an air & space museum. He's the handsome one in the front, pointing and saying, "Make it so."

 

Thanks for visiting! Be sure to hop on over and visit my talented friends as they welcome in the New Year with their own Studio Tour:



Aaron Christensen

Barbara Johansen-Newman

Beth Logan (well, you're already here!)

Brenda Pinnick

J. Wecker-Frisch

Karen Embry

Paula Joerling

Phyllis Dobbs

Samantha Walker

Sharon Himes

Shelly Comiskey

Sue Zipkin

New York Minute (Plus Extra Bonus Surtex Advice)

Hey there Blog Pals!  Look what I just found, a post I had written a month or so before Surtex. 

Normally I would say something shiny must have caught my eye to draw my attention from this and cause me to forget it, but in the month leading up to the show, it doesn't even take shiny objects.  Could have been anything.  Piece of dust, a hiccup, a loose eyelash, who knows. 

Anyway, here you go, a couple months later:

 

I've been traveling to New York for the Surtex show every May since 2000.  So long now that many of my family and friends have stopped calling it Zyrtec or Syntax or Snorkel or Merkin, and actually remember, and can say, its correct name.  Not all, but many.

As my annual pilgrimage Eastward looms nearer, I am reminded of some of my favorite little moments from past shows.  Not the kind I usually share with you here on my blog, but those odd little private moments that most likely, only I appreciate.

Just last year, this memory is still quite fresh: I found my Happy Place, for about 3 minutes until I was called back to my booth.
I cannot disclose the ultra-top-secret super-hidey don't-even-try-to-find-it location, but oh my word that was an amazing bagel. 

Or there was this pearl from 2006.  Next to my booth was an alcove left empty for the fire-extinguisher.  At some point during the show, a folding chair appeared.  This particular day was bustling and noisy, but this gentleman managed to sleep rather soundly in the hard little chair for about 45 minutes. 

Another favorite chair-related moment, this one walking back to the hotel after the last day of the show in 2007.  A priceless little still-life on West 34th Street.
God I love New York.

You get extra points for today if you remember my little friend Ibbs.  He is actually a useful and practical Bucky neck-pillow that I take with me on airplanes.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
But that face, gosh how it makes me smile when I get back to the room after a long flight, or even longer day at the show.  I just can't help it.

And speaking of long days, the following is still in the running as one of the longest in my entire life:

3 or 4 years ago, on set-up day. 

Sloshed through the streets with a hand-truck in some kind of crazy out-of-nowhere monsoon, after finding out the main Manhattan FedEx office where I'd shipped my displays had recently moved from its convenient location across the street from Javits Center to 11 blocks north.

Good times.

Crossing streets that were literally underwater.  Actual rivers with cars driving through them.

Soaked to the bone (you should have seen the looks on their faces when I splashed through the door of the FedEx office like a soggy dish-rag).

Dried off some during the long hours that followed, setting up my booth.

Exhausted and starving at the end of the day, I could not decide which desperate urge was stronger, so I multitasked.
I am not sure I have ever had a more satisfying slice or a more comforting, refreshing bath.

This time of year, the old Interwebs is bursting at the seams with Surtex advice: new exhibitors looking for it, and seasoned ones giving it.

Although he may not appreciate me sharing this here on my blog (but here I go anyway) I believe Husband-Guy has the all-time-best-bottom-line-Surtex-advice-ever.

A few years ago, it was that usual last-day-afternoon-lull after what had been a very busy show for us.  We finally had a moment to breathe, and he left the booth to walk around and take a peek at the rest of the hall for the first time.  When he came back, he said, "I have 2 pieces of important advice for anyone exhibiting at Surtex: 1. Always have a smile on your face, I don't care how miserable you feel, and 2. Never, ever sit in your booth like you're sitting on the toilet."

Since then, I have been too often reminded when walking the aisles exactly what he was talking about.  It's impossible to never be caught off-guard while "on-display" at a trade-show.  You can't get lipstick off your teeth without making a horrible face.  People yawn.  Heads itch.  Clothing scoots out-of-whack and requires adjustment.  All this happens under those bright lights in a 10' cube, we've all had that sheepish look on our face at one time or another when we realize it's happening.

On busy days with no time for an actual lunch-break, I've been approached more than once having just stolen a bite of something big, chewy, messy, or God-forbid all those things at once, from behind my booth-table.  Actually, doing so pretty much guarantees that the incredibly important person (or group of people) you've been dying to meet with will pop in at that exact moment. 

And many will falter, just for a second: you take a deep breath, lower your head, rest your elbows on your maybe-too-widely spread-apart knees, and forget where you are, even if just for a split-second.  You may not notice in your periphery that someone is passing your booth, and if you could see the look on their face you would be painfully aware that it says,"ew, that guy looks like he's sitting on a toilet." and you can be sure that they do not want to see what fabulous art you are showing on your now might-as-well-be bathroom walls, they are going to dart away quickly, trying their hardest to erase that image from their brain forever and ever.

The highs at Surtex, or any show, are supercrazyhigh.  The absolute exhileration of making deals, brainstorming projects and collections, compliments flying every which way - the excitement is amazing.  This is why we pay the big bucks, it's what we've been leading up to all year.  There's nothing like it.  But between those highs are moments that can feel endless and tortuous in comparison.  For those of you new to the show: be prepared with incredible endurance, patience, and thick skin that you never imagined necessary.  Really, you'll need it.  I don't care who you are, you will.

But don't forget to enjoy those moments, those odd little private moments that most likely, only you will appreciate.

Don't forget those during this busy preparation time, either.  Stop and breathe.  Take a walk.  Smell the flowers.  Listen to music you love.  Light a calming candle.  But if you do, never, ever, ever, EVER do this:

(yes, you're really seeing that).
And that, my friends, is the single best piece of advice I can ever give you: "don't set your art on fire" (unless, of course, you are a conceptual artist and fire is part of the piece itself and you have all safety issues under complete control - other than that, don't do it).

The Atlanta Gift Show

Just back from the whirlwind of overstimulation that is Americasmart.
Wow, what a great trip.  The inspiration, warm friendships, networking, productive meetings, tired feet, oh my gosh the tired feet ... did I mention the inspiration?  And great friends?  Yeah.  All of that, and then some.

I wish I had made this one up: my friend Sue kept calling it "Icelanta" - oh my gosh, what a week to visit The South.
Serious ice still blanketed many streets, but the view from above was stunning.

These shots were snapped while enjoying a lovely reception hosted by the Greeting Card Association at the Westin's Sun Dial (it rotates, like the Space Needle!).

Back home again to real-life, lots of follow-up ... and feeling crazy-inspired to start new projects.  A pretty good place to be, I'd say. 

Thanks, everyone who made the week such a great experience!

Just In Case You Thought I Knew What I Was Doing.

So if you've been reading the last few posts, you already know about my recent waking-state public speaking debut: yes, this was the first time I've had my lips anywhere near a microphone or my face in front of a crowd outside of that old recurring nightmare that for my entire adult life has managed to pop up during times of extreme stress: the one where, as I often did growing up, I'm back giving a talk in church  ... but being a nightmare, of course, I appear at the podium in various states of undress and/or sleepwear, and as the dream takes place in the present and I was still a child the last time I prepared a talk for church I've completely forgotten what the talk was to be about, and my notes are probably back in my old bedroom in the house my parents sold 26 years ago so they won't help me now.

What, you don't dream stuff like this?

Um, ok, well ... anyway.

I have to admit that I surprised myself by not only willingly but excitedly participating in the recent Surtex seminar program ... and it really did prove to be fun (no, really, actually fun, not just less-terrible-than-standing-before-my-childhood-church-congregation-as-a-stuttering-pajama-clad-adult, but fun).  Chatting with Dena and Kate (both amazing women!), answering questions, meeting all the enthusiastic people wanting to learn more about the business - it was a great experience from my point of view and I hope it was for all who attended.
(thanks, Leyla Torres, for the photo and the mention!)

But it seemed to have left me on some kind of crazy high or something, because later that day when the amazingly prolific, clever and connected Tara Reed bounced past my booth with that irresistibly sunshiny smile of hers and asked if I'd be up for a quick video interview about licensing, I (quite uncharacteristically) mumbled something like, "sure, why not...?" and only cringed a little when she enthusiastically grinned "Great! I'll be right back with my camera!" (for some reason I thought she meant some other interview, some other time, perhaps someday in the far and distant future - you know, maybe even in a galaxy far, far away...).

So.  All this is just to let you know that if you're at all curious about what I might have to say about my Adventure in Art Licensing, in minimal words and without forethought (it is quite possible my notes for this presentation are still back in my old bedroom at the house my parents sold 26 years ago), hop on over to Tara's Art Licensing Blog to see my interview, and while you're there check out all the others who have shared their own licensing stories.  Wow!  Once again Tara has taken a teensy spark of an idea and turned it into another incredible resource for artists looking to grow their business - this girl just blows me away with all she manages to accomplish, I'm pretty sure she has not only figured out how to exist without sleep, but how to control the Space-time Continuum and I am eagerly awaiting her telesminar and eBook on Warp Speed.

The one thing you are pretty sure to come away with after watching (aside from the fact that I can make my lips completely disappear) is this: Beth Logan had no idea what she was doing.  I mean, just in case I didn't make it clear enough by repeating that several times during the interview.

But it is true - even just a few years ago the kinds of resources that are available to artists now simply didn't exist.  There is a wealth of information out there now to help creatives find their niche and pursue their own Art Business path.  Stumbling blindly into stuff is pretty much how I roll, in general.   Others, however, may prefer an actual plan, even goals, so I've added a new section of art licensing links in my sidebar.

And the cats drinking coffee? 
My very first licensed design.  Although technically, Espresso Time was really the second time I licensed a design ... the first was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away ... seriously long and far, longer and farther than I care to think about: primordial ooze, dinosaurs, Beth's first licensing deal...