It's almost time for the League of NH Craftsmen's Annual Fair (August 6-14 at the Mount Sunapee Resort in Newbury, NH) and as usual, I'm not ready.
My friends say, "You ALWAYS say you're not ready." But this time I'm REALLY not ready.
It's been a funny year. I have not been as focused on my art as in the past.
I've been more willing to drop everything to listen to and encourage my friends, my husband, my kids, my family. I've taken in pregnant cats, homeless doves and stray children.
I've been diligent about taking of me, too. I make time now to work out regularly and fix healthy meals. It takes a lot of time to do this.
I've put more effort into teaching and writing. My efforts to help other artists one-on-one got so cumbersome, I've taken to blogging regularly instead.
I volunteer than ever, at our local elementary school (even though my kids don't even go there anymore) and at the Monadnock Humane Society. And I've been riding diligently, to the point where I sometimes win an argument with the horse.
I've tried to expand my world. I joined the Arts Business Institute faculty last fall, and joined the board of the Fiber Art Center in Amherst, MA. It's a great little organization, with amazing people supporting and promoting awesome artists. These are great opportunities for professional growth and outreach. But they take time, too.
All these endeavors were highly satisfying emotionally, physically, spiritually, professionally. But my work output suffered mightily.
Now I'm behind, and I need help.
As an artist, I've felt compelled to do everything in my biz myself. It's been hard turning over even a few key segments to trained professionals.
Sometimes, though, you have to. Artists can't really do it all—not without slowly driving themselves and their best friends crazy. And your art is much better for recognizing when to persevere, and when to turn the damn task over to someone else. I would not have the success I enjoy if I didn't have Jeff Baird of Brattleboro, VT as my photographer. A beautiful new booth banner is in the works, courtesy of A Sign Stop and a young intern/art student, Steve Casey here in Keene, NH. It's much nicer than anything I could ever have made.
I've never turned over my art production to anyone else. Probably never will, actually. It wouldn't seem right, and I actually enjoy 98% of the process. But there are tons of piddly things that anyone could do.
Yet asking for help in my studio had never seemed feasible. How could I ask people to do something as mundane as putting address labels on postcards? Or rubber stamping my logo on jewelry boxes? I couldn't imagine anyone wanted to do that stuff.
But something funny started to happen a few months ago. People started to return the favor.
There are people who simply love my work and want to support me making it. They volunteer to work in my booth, and even help set up and break down if I need it. As daunting as show preparations can be for me, it's new and exciting for them. They're eager to be a part of the circus for a few days.
The people I've spent hours listening to through various crises the last six months show up. "It's your turn!" they say. They come every few days to move a few boxes to the attic, or rubber stamp jewelry boxes. Or stick address labels on postcards. They claim they're also having a good time.
Friends show up with hot coffee. They meet me at 7 a.m. so we can get a quick walk in before we start the day.
My teenager son came through. Earlier today I was explaining to him that I couldn't stop to handle HIS craft emergency because I was in a panic about a deadline, but would help him think of a solution in an hour. He asked why I was stressed, and I told him. He said, "How can I help?" I didn't know whether to faint in disbelief, alert the media or scream "Hallelujah!" but I just kissed him quietly instead.
I am rich in love.
