As part of my strategy to educate myself more about the world of high-end fiber art and the collector’s marketplace, I recently resubscribed to various trade magazines and journals. Now I’m remembering why I let my subscriptions lapse.
They are full of stories that have nothing to do with me or my work. It seems like most of the artists featured come from academic backgrounds. They explore parameters and stretch limits. They speak in erudite terms about their processes and philosophies. (I also notice that most of the work tends to look alike, but that might just be me.) I begin to think my work, and the stories that inspire it, are so much light fiction.
Also, the reports from the marketplace are dire. There are a few “superstars” who get good prices for their work—but not nearly what the “superstars” in other, more popular mediums command. And the operative word is “few”. It seems that galleries only want the tried-and-true big names in fiber, someone guaranteed to generate sales and interest.
The more I read, the more depressed I get. My work doesn’t seem to fit in. In fact, these professional publications are the ones that have shown least interest in my self-promotion efforts, despite repeated approaches. (I’ve had more success in the last eight years jurying into straight art shows than I’ve had jurying into fiber or fine craft shows.) I begin to second-guess myself. Maybe my work isn’t as good as I think it is. Maybe the story is not academic enough. Maybe I’m not talking the right language. Or targeting the right audience. Maybe it’s not saleable, or marketable. Maybe there’s no room at the top, or maybe there’s just no market for fiber, period.
As I thought this today, I happened to look at the top pile on my desk. There is a copy of Joseph Campbell’s book, MYTHS TO LIVE BY. I have no idea where it came from, or why it’s sitting on my desk. I don’t remember pulling it from my bookshelves or placing it there. But the irony struck me immediately.
A myth has come to mean something that is totally not true. But the original meaning of “myth” was a story people told to make sense of their world. It helped explain the capriciousness of life, and also gave people a way to think about their lives. They provided a code to live by, examples to learn from, cautionary situations to avoid. And most importantly, heroes.
Heroes lived big. Sometimes they were extraordinary figures, but sometimes they were ordinary people who lived in extraordinary times. The gods were too strange to understand, too unaccountable, somewhat like us but not enough like us to love.
But heroes were human. All too human, sometimes! They found themselves in desperate circumstances and odd situations. Sometimes they won and sometimes they lost. But they always persevered.
The title MYTHS TO LIVE BY reminds me that there is no ultimate truth to our lives. There is no secret to discover or trick to figure out. There is no “get out of jail go free” card, and very few sure-fire ways to get ahead and stay there.
There is simply a story—the story each and every one of us tells ourselves every day. It is the story we create that gets us out of bed every morning morning, that gives us the strength to keep going. The story that gives us some kind of center to hold onto. Something bigger than ourselves to believe in.
The tragedy and beauty of our lives is, we are free to create that own myth for ourselves. We can use someone else’s if we want to, but we can also say no thank you, I’ll make my own. It can be silly and pathetic, or grand and eloquent, it can be small and whiny or brave and shiny. It’s up to you.
I realize that eight years ago, when I was just starting out, I knew nothing of this "real world" in fiber. I only knew the story that was in my heart, the work that needed to come out. I focused on making the most interesting work I could think of, and worked on making my story as clear and clean and powerful as I could make it.
And I enjoyed a certain amount of success doing that. I juried into shows, I exhibited, I sold my work, I published my writing. Even during the worst possible time to start a new business with my artwork, I've managed to hang in there.
Is it the story that counts? More than the "reality" of what is and is not possible?
It’s time to set those professional mags aside for awhile, and get back to my story.
I think I’ll be the hero....
