Ms. Terry Rafferty

I had a very interesting conversation last month with two aspiring artists, still in high school. Both were concerned about competing in an art world where, to their young eyes, all the art had already been made. Why try to make a Mona Lisa when ‘its been done’? Michelangelo defined Renaissance painting and sculpture, Brancusi modern sculpture, Picasso modern art, Weston and Adams twentieth century photography. The students wanted to know how they could possibly compete in a world where it’s all been done, and done to perfection?
That concern might be valid if art were a competition. But if we treat art as a competition then few of us would ever have the courage to add our voices and vision to the world. Just think of all the incredible work that’s been done since Michelangelo. If art were a competition, we might not have Rembrandt or Vermeer, no Rodin or Giacometti. And while Beethoven’s 5th and Handel’s Messiah rock my world, so do Elton John and Paul Simon. Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” may cover everything from soup to nuts, but I want more than just that one perspective. I need more variety, alternative voices, and points of view. The same subject in a painting is not only made new by the medium and the brush strokes, but also by the back story, the moment in our cultural timeline, and the voice of the individual artist. So perhaps we should see art not as a competition, but as a contribution to the long history of human experience.
Here are four paintings of a goldfinch. Each one expresses something totally different about the bird and our relationship to it. We wouldn’t have three of these if we believed that Fabritius had done the definitive “best” Goldfinch back in 1654.

It’s easy to get caught up in the competitiveness of winning: a gallery, a show, an award. In part, winning translates into money, and we do like to eat. And, as we work mostly alone, we appreciate the validation and accolades that competitions bring. It is my belief, though, that if I don’t try to compete with other artists I will have greater success. Finding my own path and doing what I love helps me to create my best art. Not The best art, but My best art. When I put my work out in the world I’m not saying that my work is better than another artist; I’m saying “Here. This is how I see a rabbit – or person, or landscape. I hope it gives you a different way to see it too.”

Art isn’t a competition: it’s a contribution to the collective experience of humanity. Please contribute yours.

When faced with a disaster, what would you save? Who hasn’t considered this classic rhetorical question? What would you rescue as you ran out the door in an emergency?  Obviously the people and pets. But then it gets harder, and personal.  The computer? Financial paperwork? Family heirlooms? Photo albums?
At the end of September, the question became real for me.  
My husband Jack and I live on a boat about half the year.  Having spent the summer aboard in Maine, we planned to take ‘Seadragon’ south for the fall and winter. Delayed by hurricanes Irma, Jose, and Maria, we were anxious to get underway and decided to do an overnight run from Portland to Provincetown.  Fully fueled, we left about 5pm, a bit before sunset.  As we approached the Cape Elizabeth lighthouse, I heard a soft ‘pop’ and a change in the engine sound.  After checking with my husband at the helm, I headed for the engine room below deck.  The porthole viewing window into the engine room was full of smoke and dripping from what I guessed was our fire suppressor.  I didn’t open the door.
Running back up to the flybridge with the bad news, we began doing the things you hope you never have to.  Jack shut down the engines and called a mayday to the Coast Guard, letting them know we might be abandoning ship.  I got our life jackets and ‘ditch kit’, which holds some survival gear.  We deployed the life raft. Then: are we ready? What else might we need? What was I not willing to lose? I grabbed our wallets – ID and a credit card would be nice if we were going to be ashore without a home, clothes or food.  Still time? Glancing around I rejected clothes, medicine, and souvenirs. Those could all be replaced.  Then I remembered – my Painting! The one I had ready to ship to OPA’s Eastern Exhibition in a couple of weeks! No question, that had to be the one thing I would grab. And there was time – barely.  
As I stood on the deck, painting tucked under my arm, ready to jump, I was so sad to be leaving our boat, perhaps forever.  Rescuing the painting eased that sense of loss and I knew I had made the right choice for me, on that day.  Another time maybe it will be different.  Of course, I’m actually hoping there won’t be a next time.
What happened next?  Well, as I stood there, the Coast Guard arrived, my heroes!  We had a scary transfer, jumping from our deck to theirs – but we all made it.  Me, my husband, and the painting.  The Coast Guard guys wondered what on earth they were protecting, ‘Must be really valuable’ they said.  Yes. To me, it was.
And the rest of the story: The Portland fire boat arrived and our boat didn’t sink – it was towed back to the docks.  We lost our life raft, had damages to repair, and weren’t real sure when we would get underway again.  But we were fine, got to celebrate a warm welcome back to shore by wonderful people, and I still had a painting to show.  It’s called “Potions” – but I’m thinking “Lucky Charm” might be its subtitle.

There were many lessons tucked into that day,  from the Boy Scouts “Be Prepared”, to the philosophical  “it could have been worse”.  But the one I want to share is that while possessions have little value in a life-threatening situation, the work that we do as artists is more than an end product.  It is a representation of how we spend our time, how we see the world, and what we want to share with the world.  Our work is important, and worth saving.
We are so fortunate to have had only a close call. Our boat didn’t sink, and our situation pales in comparison to the stories of thousands of people who lost everything to the recent hurricanes and the west coast fires. For each of these families the question of what to save was real, and many didn’t even get the chance to answer the question. My heart goes out to all those who’ve lost their homes.

New Beginning, Fresh Start, Turning a New Leaf. Just a few of the ways we talk about being re-energized and re-focused on our projects and goals. Sitting with a group of artists recently, the conversation went like this: “I haven’t done anything new.” “My brain is mushy.” “I have a show coming up and no work for it.” “I’m just repeating myself”. “It all looks the same.” “I don’t know what to do.” Sound at all familiar? How do we keep it fresh for ourselves and spark creativity when we have deadlines to meet and feel like we need to ‘produce’ creative work? While we can’t just wait for inspiration to strike, there are ways to foster the joy of creating. For me it doesn’t usually require any Big changes (new medium, new genre) but rather small changes I can easily fit into the work I already do. Here are some suggestions that work for me:
Change Scale
Townsend Atelier recently hosted a show that had one simple requirement – all artists had to create a work on 4” round coasters. At first this seemed crazy. Four inches? and Round? But what at first seemed really limiting resulted in a huge amount of fun both in creating my own pieces and in seeing everyone else’s. The landscapes, portraits, abstracts and even sculpture and mixed media were eye-opening!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
This show helped me see I could easily mix up the size of my work, so instead of just working in a mid-size, I’m bouncing back and forth, one day working and forth, and forth, one day working tiny, the next very large.

 
 

Take on a Challenge
A friend and I talked about our resistance to dealing with social media and promised each other we would post more often. That didn’t happen till we were invited to a Facebook Challenge: post 7 paintings in 7 days. Rather than posting old work I chose to try working alla prima – something I never do. Again, this turned out to be really fun, and successful. It gave me so much more confidence in painting, and I wouldn’t have done it without the Challenge.
Change a Material
Choose just one new material – a new brand or color of paint, a different medium or varnish. I recently switched to aluminum composite panels for larger works. So far I’m really liking it, but there is a definite learning curve in prepping the panel and in how the first layer of paint soaks in when compared to oil primed linen. Making just one change keeps the frustration level down during the learning curve; when something goes ‘wrong’ I don’t have to wonder which new material caused the issue. Its easy to isolate and solve.
Choose a Workshop with a Specific Goal
I quit taking workshops for awhile – I found I was just taking random classes that were fun but unrelated to my actual work. After considering what I would find truly useful I chose a drawing class. In last month’s OPA blog, David Dibble quoted Jeremy Lipking’s advice to painters:
“Draw more, that’s basically it. A lot of people feel like they know how to draw good enough already, but don’t trust yourself. Learn to draw better.” I can draw – but not nearly as well as I would like, and not in ways that actually inform my paintings. Choose a class that builds an area you want to strengthen. Growing and stretching skills is so satisfying!

Join a Group
We work alone so much of the time and often with no feedback other than the voices in our heads – which, admit it, are frequently negative. Even if you’re an introvert (I am), get over it and go find a few other artists to hang out with on a regular basis. I joined two groups this year – one is specifically a critique group and the other is in a shared studio space. Both support me in my work and let me learn about the very different kinds of work that the others are doing. We talk about our successes and dreams and failures. It makes the load lighter.
Count the Ways

There are so many possible ways to change things up and get recharged. See what’s new in your colleagues’ approaches. One friend of mine is learning about gold/silver leafing. One has decided to stop taking commissions to have more time to follow her heart. While I’m trying out alla prima paintings, another friend has just discovered the pleasure of working slowly in layers. A Facebook friend has committed to doing 100 drawings before returning to the easel. Yet another is documenting her shoe collection through paintings and drawings. Every. Single. Pair.
Finally –
This is something I hadn’t considered until reading Jerry Hardesty’s blog post ‘Art Does Not Speak For Itself’ on FASO’s Fine Art Views. It’s about the need to be able to talk about our art. He writes about having a collector ask about a piece only to find himself completely tongue tied and have the collector wander off. I’ve been there, bet you have too. He suggests a number of ways to get comfortable speaking about your art. My personal favorite is his suggestion to join Toastmasters, but no matter how you achieve it, learning to communicate with others about the work we do can only enhance our own experience of it. So, on my list for next year, is to learn to speak about art publicly. Who knows – even that could turn out to be fun (I’ll keep telling that to my inner-introvert).
Why?
Why do all of this? Because the benefits are huge. It keeps me excited about painting, and it keeps me asking questions – What happens when I do this? What if I do it here instead of there? Why did that fail and what can I do about it? By nature I prefer the safe, the familiar. So its unlikely I will suddenly take up performance art, or abstract work. But by trying out changes that aren’t too far outside my comfort zone, I stay connected to my work but continue to grow and to love being an artist.
What gets you excited about being at the easel? What do you want to try, and why? What challenge could make you actually get going? What we do as artists is very hard work. But it should also be very very fun. Ready, set, Go!
Blog post by Terry Rafferty
www.terryrafferty.com