7/2/2025 9:46:25 AM
The act of creating art can be deeply personal—quiet, focused, and often solitary. But sometimes, that solitude turns into isolation. You find yourself stuck on a piece that’s almost working… but not quite. You stare at it, tweak a few things, but can’t put your finger on what’s off. There’s no one to bounce ideas off. No feedback. No fresh eyes. Just you, in your own head, circling the same questions.
Sound familiar?
I’ve been there many times. What’s helped me most is getting out into the art community. Whether it’s through joining an art association, attending local gallery openings, taking a workshop, or simply chatting with other artists at an art fair—I always walk away re-energized, inspired, and clearer in my thinking.
Other artists see things differently. They might notice a strength in your work you didn’t realize. Or gently point out where something feels off—and even better, offer a new way to approach it. These connections are invaluable. They remind you that you’re not creating in a vacuum and that the creative process doesn't have to be lonely.
One of the best things I ever did for my own growth was to start showing up. To classes. To critiques. To meet-ups. The more I engaged with other creatives, the more confident I felt—not only in my work but also in my identity as an artist.
So if you’re feeling stuck, uninspired, or just plain lonely in your art practice, reach out. Get involved. Surround yourself with people who get it. Art may begin alone, but it flourishes in community.
6/23/2025 10:10:55 AM
As artists, we pour ourselves into our work—emotionally, spiritually, and financially. When someone shows interest in our art, especially after a big moment like being accepted into a juried show, it's natural to feel both excited and validated. But unfortunately, scammers know this too.
Recently, after announcing on social media that one of my pieces had been selected for a juried exhibition, I was approached by someone who expressed interest in purchasing the painting. I let them know it was currently on display and promised to follow up once I retrieved it from the show.
A month later, I reached out to let them know the painting was available. They said they were still interested. We discussed the price, shipping, and settled on a payment method. That’s when things started to feel… off.
Shortly after providing my payment details, I received an email claiming that, because the payment was coming from a business account, I needed to pay a $200 "business fee" to accept the funds.
🚩 Red Flag #1: I’ve never encountered this before, so I replied to the email for clarification.
To my surprise, I got a very prompt reply.
🚩 Red Flag #2: Scammers often create a false sense of urgency and legitimacy through quick responses. The email also explained that the $200 fee would be added to the sender’s payment total.
🚩 Red Flag #3: Then came another email asking me to call the payment company directly—another classic tactic meant to pressure and confuse.
Against my better judgment, I called the number.
🚩 Red Flags #4 & #5: There were no recorded prompts, and the call was answered by someone on a scratchy cell connection with no professionalism whatsoever.
Meanwhile, the buyer messaged again, saying he offered to pay the $200 and trusted me to reimburse him.
🚩 Red Flag #6: Manipulation through guilt or trust is a classic scam tactic.
At this point, I firmly told him two times not to pay the fee and I would look into it further and contact my bank to investigate the so-called fee. I still held a tiny sliver of hope it could be legit—but I needed confirmation.
I started to slow down and look more logically at the whole picture, and I checked my account—no payment, no pending transactions, and certainly no sign of a $200 fee. To be absolutely certain, I called the payment provider using their official published number. They confirmed what I now knew in my gut: it was a scam.
I sent a final message to the “buyer,” calling them out for the deception. I told them their behavior was disgusting and that if they were in fact a legitimate art collector, they could buy the piece directly through my website. I even apologized for the tone—on the off chance they were real—but I knew in my heart they weren’t.
Takeaways for Fellow Artists:
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Trust your instincts. If something feels off, it probably is.
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Know your platforms. Contact payment providers only using official numbers or verified websites.
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Never reimburse someone for a "fee" you didn’t initiate or confirm with your own bank or service provider.
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Don’t be afraid to slow down. Scammers thrive on urgency. Pause, breathe, and verify.
We work too hard and pour too much love into our art to be taken advantage of. Share this with your fellow creatives—and stay vigilant.
6/17/2025 2:01:45 PM
“If only I had more time in my day…”
I say it all the time. I have so many ideas, so much I want to create. Life is full and busy—family, home, pets, friends, and a full-time job. It’s a beautiful chaos, but it doesn’t always leave space for long, uninterrupted hours of painting.
Enter: the camera phone. What an absolute game-changer.
I take pictures constantly—breathtaking landscapes, an adorable child deep in thought, a perfect bloom, an inspiring piece of art in a museum. I snap moments that move me, freeze them in time, and tuck them away in my pocket for later. The accessibility of reference photos right at my fingertips has completely transformed how I make art.
Some artists insist on painting only from life, setting up a still life or standing at an easel outdoors with the scene unfolding before them. I admire that, and I do enjoy painting en plein air when I can. But if that were the only way I could create, I would hardly paint at all.
You see, I’m a regular person with responsibilities and a very full calendar. I can’t always drop everything to chase the perfect lighting or set up an elaborate still life. But I can scroll through my photo library during a quiet evening and be inspired to paint what fits my mood, my energy, or my current fascination. It gives me creative freedom and flexibility.
Back in college, things were different. I carried a film camera everywhere (yes, actual film!) and would set up scenes, pose my friends, and hope the images would turn out once developed. If I couldn’t photograph something, I’d scour magazines for references—cutting, pasting, and blending images to create the vision in my mind. I even worked in the art department’s reference room, tediously filing magazine clippings into labeled cabinets for other students to use. Believe me, it was not glamorous.
But that process taught me something important: inspiration is everywhere, and reference materials are tools—not rules. Today, when another artist asks if I paint from life, I say: “Absolutely.” I paint from my life. From all the moments I witness, the beauty I notice, and the things that stop me in my tracks. I just happen to carry those memories in my phone.
When I paint, I don’t simply copy a photo. I interpret it. I translate the memory with the colors I felt, the mood I remember, and the elements I want to emphasize—or even omit. It becomes something more than what was captured—a little more mine.
So yes, I still paint from life. I just happen to live a life where my creativity needs to fit into the in-between spaces. Thanks to a little tool in my pocket, those spaces are now wide open with possibilities.
