Random Thoughts On: Confusion, Clarity, and Making a Life in the Arts

It’s been a few months since I wrote my last blog post. During that time I was doing a lot of painful, difficult, and necessary soul searching. I’ve been confused about what direction I wanted to take my art practice. I felt like I had to make a choice between making mass-produced fashion jewelry for profit or making one-of-a-kind conceptual jewelry that might be exhibited in galleries and museums but might not produce enough money for me to make a living from my art. And that’s all I want to do–that’s all most artists want to do–make a living from their art. Making mass-produced, machine-made jewelry goes against my personal ethics, but then so does starving.

I went to an art school that was typical of most art schools in that it was long on theory and short on teaching the business of art. Some where along the way I internalized the message that a real artist is willing to make any necessary sacrifice for her art–even if it means starving for her art. As a person who has made a decent living in the public and private sector, the idea of being a starving artist is not appealing in any way. I felt like if I had to choose between maintaining my artistic integrity (but being poor) and working for a decent salary in a non-creative field, I’d choose money (a non-creative career) over a life in the arts.

This decision made me deeply unhappy. I couldn’t imagine a life without making art. I fell into a deep depression. I researched alternative therapies for depression, and used a combination of exercise, diet, vitamins and aromatherapy. I started mixing essential oils, and found them very effective. The depression lifted, and for a while I entertained starting an aromatherapy business. But that didn’t sit right with me either.

I decided to stop struggling, to stop trying to make a decision, and to just be still, and let the answer present itself to me. The answer presented itself in the form of Metalsmith magazine. Recently, I received my semi-monthly subscription, and dug into the articles. I was intrigued by Bruce Metcalf’s review of CAD/RP jewelry, particularly the work of Stanley Lechtzin. It occurred to me that Metcalf (who was one of the artists I featured in my graduate school thesis presentation) is both a theorist, a storyteller, and an artist. What I realized that nothing gives me more of a thrill than making jewelry, thinking about jewelry, looking at jewelry, researching jewelry, and learning about both the theory of ornament/material culture and craft techniques. I may have started my career in the arts as a painter then sculptor but I am finding my voice through jewelry. I can fight it, I can deny it, I can walk away from it (for a while), but I can’t escape the fact that I’m a jewelry artist.

I’m still a bit unclear on other things. It has occurred to me to stop thinking in a binary fashion (mass-produce or one-off)/(starving artist with integrity/sell-out artist with money) and to consider that it might not be a question of either/or but both/and. In other words, I’m asking myself, is it possible to make one-of-a-kind art jewelry, imbued with meaning, that is profitable?

I also realize that I may have to make some compromises. I may have to work for a corporation during the day, and make my art in the evenings and weekends–plenty of artists have day jobs whether its waiting tables or teaching. They also manage to maintain an active art practice. It’s all about balance and dedication to your craft.

I think about artists like Lechtzin, Metcalf, and my heroes David Ford and Steven Forlano, who all have a 20+ year career as jewelry artists. They inspire me to keep going.