I started my photography journey on Flickr, back when it was the behemoth of the photo-centered social media scene. I started posting odd, creepy, uncomfortable self-portraits and that triggered some conversation. And then, without understanding, I started to see comments on my pictures that said “congrats on explore!” When I first saw this I had no idea what it meant. “Explore what?” I thought. I quickly came to learn that somehow, for whatever reason (and these things always seem to be vaguely explained), my pictures fit the then-algorithm of Flickr. I was being promoted for free in a place where thousands and thousands of people looked.

I got used to my pictures being in Explore, and, for that matter, the same few photographers constantly being there. I watched careers blossom, including my own, in large part due to that algorithm. And then one day, it stopped. Without explanation, without understanding (and really, it is too vague to nail down), I stopped getting promoted. I was very fortunate for my career to have been started and to have a client base that was feeling secure, but it was confusing at the time.

I have never mastered social media. I choose, very intentionally, not to dive deep into the depths and utter emptiness that is the rat race. So, I took it with a grain of salt and moved on, ever confident (whether I should have been or not) in my ability to self-actualize my dreams.

A few days ago I uploaded a video to Flickr and I woke up the next morning to see those familiar words: Congrats on Explore.

It was like an explosion of memories to the beginning of my photography passion. I assumed I’d never be chosen again. I remember fiercely adhering to my expectation of creating something personal, but still feeling a sense of pride at being chosen. How wrong I was to think that way, at least in my opinion. We can continue to chase the newest algorithm or we can ignore it, and, likely experience similar results.

I hear a lot of complaining these days about algorithms being changed so that you have to pay for your posts. It. Sucks. I agree completely. I have done my share of grumbling that I need to pay X amount of money to reach even a fraction of my “followers”. But I like to go at it with this attitude:

Things will change.

You have to keep creating what is true to you.

It is the way that it is. Roll with it.

Reach those who are looking with the greatest intent and passion.

I won’t lie – I am really proud of the community I’ve tried to build. Here, on Instagram, on Facebook. Social media changes, but the connections we make do not. They grow and are cultivated and are the true, real stuff that the Internet is made of.

You may be thinking that it doesn’t matter what I say on the subject because “Congrats on Explore” used to pop up on my Flickr site, and because my numbers are big enough, and because my career is strong enough. I have been told many times that it is all luck, that it’s random chance that someone builds a career online, that I probably got featured by some entity or fit the algorithm or tricked the system. Luck is always at play, random chance works in both ways, and all of that might be true. But another thing is certain – nothing is certain. My career is not certain, my community, my long road to big dreams. None of it.

This is why I have to actively choose not to focus my energies on what has been. I can only do my very best to cultivate community and shape my future (and indeed this present moment) into what matters most to me. Those things, unequivocally, are kindness and passion. You might say I have an unrealistic, naive sense of my situation, but I believe that authenticity and genuine concern for others is the basis on which our lives and careers are built – in the “real world” and on the Internet, too. It is the algorithm that never changes. It is the currency I trade with exclusively. It is, in my perhaps innocent views, what launched my career and community. And I believe in it, more than you know.

First, let’s get a show of hands (well you know, virtual hands in the comments) of who considers themselves a creative. And a second hand for who is a professional creative, meaning you do something create for a living.

I have been making my living from creativity for 9 years. I used to say that I’m a photographer, but I’m giving that title up. It never resonated, particularly. I do still mainly create images, but that won’t always be the case. Oh, I think I’ll always make photographs, but there is so much more to do that I don’t prefer the label.

For 10 years I’ve had to be very creative in how my business runs. Anyone who thinks that a career in fine art means creating whatever you want, and then sitting back as galleries sell your work for tons of money, is sorely mistaken. At least in my experience, and in the experiences I know from others.

Maybe one day.

But here’s the thing; I don’t think anything would change for me if it did.

A couple days back I finally finished two massive projects I’ve been working on. I found myself with no pressing deadlines (all self-imposed, mind you) and I didn’t know what to do with myself! I started to flounder. I started to feel useless. I started to panic.

And then my husband took my hand and said, “You have permission to do nothing”. And that changed everything.

I realized how good it felt to give myself that permission; but at almost the same instant, I realized how little I wanted that. Maybe for one afternoon, yes. I watched Beyonce’s new documentary (wow) and layed on the couch for 4 hours.

But today I was up at 5am again, ready to conquer (slay). It’s just not in me to sit back and relax. I don’t want to. You see, the thing that causes me to suffer is what causes me to succeed. I am a creative overachiever. I am highly creative, and I love to achieve more and more milestones.

That means that a career as a freelance artist hasn’t been overly difficult for me because I am an idea machine. It’s like the Alice in Wonderland quote. I think up 100 ideas before most people have had their morning coffee. It flows from me effortlessly, and I have enough confidence to make a lot of the ideas happen.

But it’s not all roses. Like I said, the thing that causes me to succeed also causes me pain. I suffer from anxiety at a level that most people don’t; I operate at a level that even stresses other people out. I work 16 hour days eagerly for weeks at a time. I pursue ideas relentlessly, despite energy/cost/likelihood of failure. If given the chance to talk business, I’ll always take it.

Thankfully I’m not an over-sharer. My friends get a little sad at times because I don’t share what I’m doing unless provoked. But there is always something going on in my head and in my life. I’m not happy unless I have a passion project.

One of the biggest questions I get asked at workshops is: How have you managed to sustain a career in fine art for nearly a decade?

The answer is extremely multi-layered. But the real answer is this: I understand how come up with and activate ideas.

It sounds simple. I understand it is anything but.

If this is something you would be interested in having a seminar about, let me know. I’d be honored to guide anyone interested through a roadmap of how to better hone ideas, how to put them into action, and how to find success via mobilized confidence.

I hope this didn’t sound too much like tooting my own horn. I am proud that I am able to do these things, but it truly does come with a down side. Learning balance has always been difficult for me. Understanding my limits is not something that computes. And sacrificing relationships is something I’ve done many times for the sake of my passion. It doesn’t bring me joy to admit that, but it is the side that no one sees.

Right now I’m on a new routine to manage stress better. Ever since having the epiphany that I operate on a different stress level to most people (ie: constant…even my “down time” is riddled with guilt about not being productive), I’ve taken measure to reduce my anxiety. We shall see!

To operate at that high stress level means that I need to be productive every second of every day. I find myself multi-tasking. Can I brush my teeth while reading my morning emails? Can I put dishes away while brainstorming my next business idea? I try to have the next 6 months strategically planned out with deadlines in my calendar and goals set. If I’m not actively or subconsciously thinking of my future, I feel distressed.

For example, I had an exhibition opening while embarking on a 14 city tour that lasted 6 weeks. It took a lot of effort to get those things settled. But even in the middle of the tour, I mapped out what my year looks like from July to December, just so that when I arrived back home in July, I could hit the ground running.

I am learning to find stillness. To be okay with not achieving something every moment of every day. But I even worry about letting that go, because it is the very thing that has allowed me success over the years. The goal is to reign it in and hone it better instead of letting it spread like a compulsion into everything I do.

I share this in an effort to be more transparent and to aid my community in any way possible. Love to all!

In June of 2019 I went to New Zealand. It was winter, but not horrendously cold. Just windy and a little bit biting. I got to speak to 150 creative individuals at NZIPP, a beautiful photography conference in Wellington. 

When I started speaking in 2011 at After Dark Education, I was one of the weird one at a weird conference. There were a lot of weird people who were doing things a little off-kilter. I thrived in it. I remember meeting with one of my mentors, Jed, who said, “are you ready to be thrown into the world of public speaking?” 

Yes.

And so I was, and did. I started speaking all over the world to groups big and small. Sometimes only 5 people would come, and sometimes 5,000. And in all of those workshops and lectures, I realized that I was still the weird one. Except, it only got exponentially more obvious. 

Fast forward to 2019 where I spoke at NZIPP. I was welcomed by the most loving showrunners who helped me get set up for my talk. As I walked over to the event center from my hotel, I noticed we were right on the wharf and the water looked so beautiful. There was even a dock area…so accessible.

So, before my talk, I asked one of the showrunners (Peter, you were a gem and I’m sorry for nearly giving you a heart attack) if I could jump in the water. In winter. In New Zealand. Never having met any of these people before. In front of 150 attendees. 

It was a little risky on my part because I hadn’t felt the crowd out yet. I didn’t know if it would be too weird. But I asked, and after much resistance (they were so worried about my health and safety!), they relented. I have that effect on people. 

I got up to give my talk. We talked of inspiration and Photoshop and all manner of normal things. Except, nothing that I do is normal. My pictures aren’t normal. My way of speaking isn’t normal. 

And then, with 20 minutes to go in my talk, I asked if everyone wouldn’t mind coming out to the docks with me while I jumped in the water. A moment of hesitation, and then a resounding YES. And off we went.

I proceeded to put a costume on, set up my camera on a tripod, and shuffle to the end of the dock. I looked up. 150 people were gathered all around, phones in the air and ready to watch the spectacle. Oh gosh.

I started to explain my thought process, since it would be crazy to just jump in with no explanation. I talked about how I create self-portraits, what conceptually drew me to the water, what I was hoping to achieve visually…

And then I jumped in. The water was absolutely, butt-kicking freezing cold. I laid back, took a deep breath, slowed my breathing, and moved around the water. I closed my eyes. I didn’t care who was watching or what was happening around me. For one minute I floated, so in my flow that the world could have ended and I would have still been peacefully floating in that bay. 

And then I lifted my head, asked if everyone got their shots, and climbed out of the water. Everyone erupted into applause. That’s the icing on the cake, because you see, I do things like this all the time, except I’m usually alone. This is my life on a weekly basis. I make a point of it. 

So to have people there witnessing it, it felt nice. 

Why bother to tell you this story? Because I have built a career out of being weird.

The places I speak at align with my brand because they trust me to be the voice of the weirdos. Why do they trust me to be that? Because I’ve branded myself into it. If someone hires me to speak to their group, they know they aren’t getting a normal motivational speaker; they are getting a firecracker that is both unpredictable and bright. 

It’s not just speaking, and in fact, that is the least of the ways in which branding weirdness is gold. 

We are starved for individuality. In a world where copying trends is not only fashionable and trendy, but also incredibly easy to do (consciously or not), it is like breathing fresh air when someone comes along who is marching to the beat of their own drum. 

I’ve branded myself as myself.

A lot of people brand themselves into perceptions of success. This is why so many people fail to stick with their businesses or even their art, because we can only keep up an act for so long. If you let yourself be exactly who you are, no apologies or explanations necessary, you will find a niche for yourself that only you can occupy. 

When I get hired for a job, be it a photoshoot for a band or a speaking event, I get hired to be 100% authentically me. That follows through to the visuals I bring to the table, the concepts only my brain can come up with, and the way I conduct myself. 

When I have portrait clients come to me to make art, I do the same things with them that I do with myself. We end up lying in a pile of thorns, jumping into freezing cold water, or balancing precariously in trees. That’s just how it is. 

From Day one I decided not to do a job if I couldn’t be myself. Even when talking to brands for sponsorship, the first thing I do is to lay down my ground rules. Rule #1: I do me. I don’t do you. But if you naturally fits with me, let’s do it. 

For real, I actually have those conversations.

If you’re curious if being weird makes money, the answer is that it can. Just like anything else. Everything has that potential. But in an age where individuality is too often strained, the weirdos stand out like a beacon of light in the darkness; a guiding light for other weirdos to follow.

And really, even the most normal of us are a little weird. 

Do you identify with being the odd one out?
Do you feel like you own it or shy away from it?

Let’s talk about the artist’s evolution. As you continue in your craft – grow, change, repeat – your art will grow with you. It will evolve and expand and collapse. You will hate it and love it and hate it again. You will want to change it, and you will, and you’ll regret that sometimes, and you’ll move forward.

I’ve been a photographic artist for 10 years. That’s a DECADE, people! And in my fairly young life, that’s a third.

In a fortunate turn of events, I’ve also had an audience for those 10 years that I’ve been an artist. From just a couple of weeks into creating up until now, I’ve had people looking at, and commenting on, my work.

Which makes it understandable as to why I’ve heard this comment more times than is countable:

“I prefer the old you.”

In my career this has meant anything from “the you of 10 years ago” to “the you of last week”. And it used to bother me.

Can’t they see I’m GROWING?!

It doesn’t matter if you have a big audience or not. Anyone from your mother to a stranger on the Internet will likely tell you the same exact words sooner or later. Here’s why:

1. People change.
2. People hate change.

…And we all have opinions.

I’ve had periods of what I consider really, really bad art-making in my life.

2013. What a bad year. I look back at that year of my art and cringe! It was so flat, so boring, so not where I wanted to go.

But I had to make that art. I had to do it to move myself forward. To experience, to know that it wasn’t me.

I used to get upset when people told me they prefer a different style that I used to make. I thought it made me less of an artist. I’d second-guess my artistic direction. I’d let it consume me.

Imagine a friend calls you up and they say: You know, I really prefer your personality from a couple of years ago. This one just isn’t cutting it for me. I don’t enjoy being around you as much anymore.

That’s basically the conversation around art and change.
(That might have been a tad dramatic).

So it makes sense that feelings get hurt and that it stings a little to hear it.

As an artist, you want to yell back: “Don’t you see?! I’m doing the best I can!”

But you can’t, without sounding paranoid.

The fact is that we are doing the best we can. Even if you haven’t created in months, that’s the best you can do for yourself right now. You might look back in a year at this time and recognize just how much you needed a break.

Maybe you feel your style shifting and it scares you. Let it, but keep going. You never know where that will lead.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made some art that I don’t like. And I don’t blame you for not liking either. But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t worth making.

Perhaps the most difficult part of being an artist with an audience is knowing that, inevitably, someone will tell you that you were better before. And they’re not necessarily wrong. I value every opinion. I don’t disregard someone because they think differently from how I do.

But I do know that the bad art is as necessary as the good. That where I am now is where I’m meant to be. And that where I’m going will remain fulfilling if I listen to myself…

…All opinions valid, none as much as my own.

As I speak to more and more people from all age groups, there is a mounting desire to be self-employed and a growing frustration in corporate drudgery. In great numbers people are cultivating creativity and trying to go it alone. The problem is that we have been taught from very young ages which jobs matter and which ones don’t; which jobs make money and which will lead to a life of suffering.

At the top of the suffering jobs list is art. Parents worry about their kids when they want to grow up and be artists because it is a notably unstable profession. No one wants their kids to struggle. But what about the, dare I say, equal importance of struggling and succeeding? All the better if that struggle is in pursuing something you love instead of struggling against a job you hate.

Either way you were raised or what you were taught to believe, there is a growing trend toward creativity in the workplace and jobs in art. That desire often comes with conflict, as though responsibility and art are directly opposed to each other. If there is a cultural shift toward creativity, there needs to be an economic shift in that direction as well; our actions must perpetuate the creation.

We need to learn to value art like we value other commodities. If you ask the average person, they would likely say that buying a car is an easier investment than buying art. Naturally so – buying art is frivolous and buying a car is responsible. But is that really true? Let’s dissect what it means to invest in art, for yourself and for others.

There have been massive renaissances throughout history that favor beauty, desire, and art. These periods of time are ones that we look on with fondness, a more idyllic time that allowed us to partake in art as an everyday cultural experience rather than an elitist activity. Perhaps we’re moving into one of those art renaissance periods.

Investing in art brings about social, cultural, and economic changes. Socially, we learn to stop putting artists down for having ‘self-indulgent’ jobs. If we invest in art, we make art a natural part of our lives, one that brings a greater attention to beauty and darkness, to introspection and deep thinking. Culturally it brings attention back to those things that weave the fabric of our societies together. It highlights trends in popular and low-brow thinking, waves of inspiration centered around the time we currently live in, and informs us of how we evolved out of trends of the past.

Investing in art economically allows artists to thrive, and in doing so gives weight to those who are driven, creative, and forward thinking. In this great technological boom, a time that could be defined by mass tech and assembly lines, we see more artists than ever before stepping out with that technology and creating wild, mind-bending works. Those creations aren’t purely aesthetic or frivolous, though; they give us a lens to see our culture, our shortcomings and successes, and our place in the world. They teach us how to engage in business and relationships more freely and creatively. And most importantly, they teach our youngest generation how to incorporate creativity into every part of what they do.

Trends show that the more creative an individual is in all aspects of life – business, relationships, personal and beyond – the more successful they become. The rules of the economy are changing. I graduated college at the start of the recession in the United States and fell into my normal – a world where jobs aren’t secure, where a steady career isn’t guaranteed with a college degree, and where I have been continually rewarded the weirder and more creative I get.

I take that as personal proof of change for myself and others in my generation. The more we invest in art, the more we show the next generation that art is a worthy thing to pursue; that your vision and your unique voice is valued and heard. If you have something to say, you can not only say it, but succeed in saying it. In a world where art is valued, individuals are valued. Free thinking and creativity are pulled into the limelight. And in a world where those values are praised, artists can rise into beautiful inclusion in the topic of worthwhile careers.

If we want individuals to believe their voice matters, we need to begin investing in art. Through the commitment to personal expression, we create a world where anyone can change the future.

If you are someone who…

• Makes art and has a business
• Makes art and doesn’t have a business

…you have a brand. It doesn’t matter if you sell your art or if you don’t, you still have a sweet little package that contains your personality and art. You may never have labeled it. You may never have thought about it. But the word “brand” still applies. 

Why? Because the way you define your style makes up your brand.

I want this to be a really practical look at how to figure out your brand, because I’m a little tired of not having a roadmap myself.

In the climate of today’s art world, the people who can move between an art-mind…

…and a business-mind are the artists who succeed.

I want everyone to have the best chance of survival, because I want the best art to shine. So let’s all get up to snuff on branding.

Here are the steps that I find most valuable:

1. Define the visual style of your art.
2. Define the conceptual style of your art.
3. Define your personality.
4. Write an artist statement containing two sentences for each of the following topics: What you create, how you create, and why you create.
   1. If you have multiple ways of creating, do this for each one separately.
5. Diversify your content. Figure out how to put your branding keywords into more of the content you produce.

The first four items on the branding to-do list are simple. Writing out lists of words is the most basic level of branding 101. Figure out what words you identify with. Keep them close.

The fifth task is more difficult. After all, if we understood intuitively where to pour our energy, we’d all be wealthy, working artists. 

I believe the key to a successful brand is to put passion first. It might sound woo-woo, and a little too on-the-nose for this blog, but it’s the real deal. If everything you create (art and business wise) go back to your passion, you will build a brand that lasts. 

Branding gets a bad reputation because it insinuates, at least to me, the idea that we are all acting in order to get attention. Branding makes artists seem like sell-outs. This is a topic I feel very strongly about.

But in effect, all branding does is give a container to a mess of could-bes. 

Your art and your personality are messy. Everyone’s is. That’s life. And humans naturally search for containers for the mess. Literally and figuratively. We put toys in bins, we organize our pantries. We compartmentalize trauma and we let joy move to the forefront. We love personality tests because it makes us feel understood, but also because it categorizes us and that feels good. 

So branding makes sense to me. I think of it as my own, made-up personality test for my art. 

In that spirit, here is a test I want you to take. 

Answer with the word you most identify with:

1. Are you more spontaneous or structured?
2. Is your art visually more dark or light?
3. Is your art conceptually more deep or surface?
4. Do you enjoy monochrome or color?
5. Is your personality more bubbly or subdued?
6. Are you more inclined to share or to hide?
7. Do you want people to feel hope when they see your work or sorrow?
8. Do you produce work fast or slow?
9. Are you more about product or process?
10. Is your work detailed or big-picture?
11. Is your work for the realists or the dreamers?
12. Are you an introvert or extrovert?

Here are my answers. Share yours below!!

1. Are you more spontaneous or structured? Structured
2. Is your art visually more dark or light? Dark
3. Is your art conceptually more deep or surface? Deep
4. Do you enjoy monochrome or color? Monochrome
5. Is your personality more bubbly or subdued? Bubbly
6. Are you more inclined to share or to hide? Share
7. Do you want people to feel hope when they see your work or sorrow? Both
8. Do you produce work fast or slow? Fast
9. Are you more about product or process? Process
10. Is your work detailed or big-picture? Big-picture
11. Is your work for the realists or the dreamers? Dreamers
12. Are you an introvert or extrovert? Introvert

By asking either/or questions, you can begin to narrow in on your brand without stressing yourself out. It’s easier to think in terms of yes or no sometimes instead of the wide sweep of WHAT IS MY BRAND. 

In fact, do this with a friend. Go through as many questions are you can think of that are yay/nay questions so that you can workshop together some of the finer points of your brands.

Let’s go back to the idea of a passion-based brand. 

If you know how you operate naturally, you are already working under a passion-based brand, assuming how you work naturally is how you are working. 

A passion-based brand is a brand where all elements and choices relate back to your core passion. For example, every single thing that I put out there, be it behind the scenes content, images, videos, jobs I take, etc., are all conscious choices made because I love to do them. They also all feature things that I love to do. 

The goal of a passion-based brand is to make sure your actions (ie: what you put out there, in all forms) aligns with your content (what you create). 

PASSIONATE ACTION
+
PASSIONATE CONTENT
=
PASSION-BASED BRANDING

Share your test with us in the comments and let me know if you have any questions about branding. I’d love to create a follow-up post about this, and maybe even an online seminar!

I’ve been honored as a judge of photo competitions many times over in the past few years. I enter competitions from time to time myself, and have had my fair share of rejections, and a couple of successes. Through my years as both a contest entrant and a judge, I want to share some lessons on entering photo competitions – particularly from the fine art side of things.

1. Don’t submit if you see flaws in your work. One of the quickest ways for a judge to pass you over is if there is an editing mistake. If you can see an inconsistency in your work, be it in matching light for a composite, cloning something out of the background, etc., simply don’t enter it. If you aren’t sure, ask friends. Specifically, ask a photo-related friend and a non-photo-related friend. This is important. Ask the photo friend if there are any technical mistakes, and ask someone else if anything simply feels “off”. My best critiques come from my friends who are not photographers.
2. Don’t submit images that are too similar. I’ve judged plenty of competitions where the same photographer will submit a set of three images: One of a tree, another of that same tree but slightly closer, and…you guessed it…the third of the same tree slightly, slightly closer. This doesn’t work. Unless it is specifically a series, where you are intentionally saying something through the use of creating three nearly identical images, don’t do it.
3. Which brings me to submitting a series. Make sure it is a series! A series can generally be categorized in two distinct ways. One, your images go together visually to show the viewer something that would be lost in a single image. Or two, the images go together thematically in a way that tells a greater story than a single image. Ideally, your series will do BOTH of these things. A series of images that look too similar is often not a series, but rather the photographer not being able to decide between a bunch of images of the same thing. Further, submitting general images in your portfolio as a series will only hurt you. There must be connection, otherwise keep them separate.
4. Judges might not understand you. Please pay attention to this one over all others. I have been in rooms judging with people who are not even remotely on the same wavelength as us fine art photographers. I don’t really blame them. We’re WEIRD. But here is the problem with being a weirdo submitting to contests: you run the risk of being misunderstood. I was in a room with a judge where, nearly every time a more conceptual image would pop up, I would hear an audible sigh. This judge just couldn’t stand them. This judge did not, in any way, desire to understand them. This judge wanted them gone. I was very grateful to be in the room, to be a voice for these images. But, let’s face it: It’s hard to find a contest where someone who makes weird art is on the judging panel. It just isn’t as common. I’ve submitted work that I feel is very strong to contests and I’ve had that work rejected. And then, I look at who won, and low and behold, it’s all documentary style images, or portraits. Who the judge is will entirely direct who is going to win that competition, so pay attention to that part, and weigh your odds.
5. Do something different. I cannot begin to describe how many images I see while judging a competition that look the same. There are certain subjects that are beautiful to photograph and that feel natural to photograph. This goes for any genre. Conceptual, documentary, portrait, sports, etc. Avoid submitting something that you’ve seen done before. The fastest way for a judge to forget about your work is if it reminds them of someone else’s work.
6. Know the impact your image makes. Is your image emotional? Is it visually arresting? Is there a concept that’s really heady? Know your goal, and create work that takes that goal to the next level. The most frequently chosen images for awards are the ones that take an idea and magnify it.
7. The 5-second rule. Okay, this isn’t actually a rule, just a guideline. When judges are viewing contest entries, we typically only look for about 5-seconds per image. Show your image to someone and ask them to look for only 5-seconds. Did it make enough of an impact in that time? There are images that we will look at and debate over for lengthy amounts of time. And there are images that we look at for less than 5 seconds. Here is the difference: images that look like lots of other images will get passed by in 2 seconds. Images that make you ask questions, look deeper, or impact you heartily will be kept up longer.

I hope this helps you gain some confidence in entering competitions! I always love when a judge gives insight into the judging process. Remember to take risks, learn as much as you can, and above all – do what you want.

Major breakthrough time.
Which means major letting go,
coming to terms,
etc.

Lindsay Adler must be my soulmate, because she has this freaky tendency to reach out to me at pivotal moments. I had just finished yoga and was sitting back down to write when I see a text from her. It simply said:

“How are you? Something made me think I should call you or text.”

I responded quickly, flippantly almost, saying that I’m good. And then, before pressing send, I added this:

“Just doing lots of writing and trying not to worry that I’m solidly not doing anything that makes money.”

Casual.

Writing those words opened up a can of worms in my brain. I hadn’t really said that out loud until that point. I knew I was making a big shift in my business/career, I had discussed pay decreases with my husband, but I hadn’t really acknowledged that the fear I feel with my new creative endeavors is rooted in money.

I know, I know. Money is just NOT COOL to talk about when you’re an “artist”.

Whatever.

It’s a fact and a stress and it is necessary. So be it.

Our ideas of success are wrapped up in it. Our confidence is wrapped up in it. Sometimes, even our reputations.

Let me be clear about some things. My business makes money in multifaceted ways, from teaching and motivational speaking to print sales and licensing, and more. I’ve always excelled at diversifying and branding. But, for the first time since starting photography, I mentally ditched that. Even though I still have revenue streams, even though I’m doing fine, I stopped associating with money.

The last time I did this was 9 years ago when I started photography. I was fresh out of college, 21 years old, and just starting photography. I knew I had to make money, but I never considered that photography would be the way to do that. It was fun and exciting and I didn’t put any expectation on that.

Photography grew to be my career, unexpectedly.

And now, 11 years later, and nearly 10 years after starting my business, and 7.5 years since learning to rely on it for money, I’m slowing it down. I’m pursuing writing, and it feels just like before – when I started photography…

…with one main difference. I make a living for myself now. Back then I was fresh out of college and had no house, no income expectations. This time I do. I’ve taught myself, as we do when we become adults, to rely on ourselves to make money. We learn to measure our success in our bank accounts.

I’m not trying to say that I have lost any joy in photography or teaching, or that I personally put my confidence and success in money, but that it is tied together even when we don’t realize it. I’m just ready for change.

I’m overjoyed about dissociating my passion from my income. It means that I’m back to passionate basics. I’m doing something because I HAVE TO. Because my soul is pushing me to do it. Because I feel a calling to write this book.

If I am ever to do it right, I can’t let money be a thought, or success, or reputation.

None of that matters in passion.

What matters is that I put aside my former expectations and learn a new way of living, one that does the deed no matter what. Just like I did with photography, and just like I will do with writing.

One day I will tell the story of how I put all else aside – my fears, insecurities, doubts, and expectation – to write the novel of my dreams. It will be a beautiful story to tell.

So, Lindsay, to answer your question…

I’m doing freaking fantastic. I really am. Thanks to you and your perfectly timed text, I’m finally feeling free.

Recently I sat in a room full of brilliant women talking about careers and dreams and goals. One after another I heard hopes of changing the world through activism, spreading joy, and setting a strong example to others like themselves. When our formal presentations were finished, talk turned to social media. Gone was the language of dreams and hopes, of confident goals and paths forward. Instead, an air of questioning and pleasing replaced that confident conversation. The language changed to self-doubt and subservience.

In our goals for our careers, it is simple to say I will do X to achieve my dream, because we recognize the power that we ourselves possess to make those dreams a reality. But in the realm of social media and marketing, we believe we are subservient to the greater population.

Much of this ingrained belief comes from entitlement issues online. Not long ago I fell sick and was unable to keep up with social media for one full week. I ceased all communication and didn’t touch my phone. When I finally picked it back up, read my emails, saw my DMs, and took a breath, I was shocked. I received emails and messages from all types of people with a similar message: we expect an explanation.

Certainly, there were well-wishes and genuinely concerned people, but even so, the underlying message (and sometimes overlying), was the same: a demand for information. This happens in big and small ways, and sometimes it is the small ways that are the most destructive.

We post an image on Instagram. We hear instant feedback, sometimes in the form of silence. We share an opinion, and we instantly know how people feel about that. This alone is not the problem. The problem is that we, as the sharers, begin to feel that that however someone reacts to our provocation (even if it is silence), is the right way to react. We feel that their reaction validates our contribution.

WE FEEL THAT THEIR REACTION VALIDATES OUR CONTRIBUTION.

This is how we learn about entitlement through social media. Because our careers, our income streams, or (and this is the heart of the issue) our self-worth are tied up in how people react to our social offerings, we become beholden to how people interact with us online.

And it is the acknowledgment of that relationship that pushes us to explore how to tide the ebb and flow of social media in our favor. We study charts and graphs, take classes, hire mentors, obsess over SEO, and for what? To find the best time to post online, in the most engaging way.

But really, all we’re doing is finding the most effective way of being beholden to someone else’s desires.

When I sat in that room of women all sharing “tips and tricks” for social media, myself included, I recognized the deep emptiness that had entered the conversation. Why, when we talk about our dreams, do we speak so confidently about what we will do to make them a reality, but when we talk about marketing those dreams, we demurely ask how we can serve others?

My social media strategy, if you can call it that, is an intuitive one. I do not study numbers or charts. I don’t care when the best time to share on Instagram is, or what type of post does best, or how to create cohesion in your gallery. Once, I cared. But a lesson, deep and nourishing, crept in at some point:

You can get people to follow your work. You can get people to take notice, you can post at all the right times, you can build a successful business by doing “all the right things”. People do it all the time.

But you can build something real and lasting if you let all of that go.

There is a way forward through authentic and intuitive social media marketing.

It’s called trailblazing. This is my social plan:

1. Care about what you put out so deeply that others care too, no matter what time you share your post.
   
2. Speak about what you care about so deeply that others are compelled to speak back.
   
3. Stop worrying about if you will offend or put off or alienate with your work. You will. GOOD.
   
4. Let your passion be the light that brings people to you. Not gimmicks. Please not gimmicks.
   
5. Let people go. If you lose followers, they were never meant for you.
   
6. Stop using the word follower, it’s yucky.
   
7. Start conversations that you want to have. Don’t start a conversation if you don’t want to have it.
   
8. Find your purpose in everything that you do and share.
   
9. Never let the reason for sharing be to satisfy a statistic (ie: when you should post, what you should post, how you should post).
   
10. Let your legacy fill your marketing strategy.

Go forth and conquer, Passionates.

In many ways, the dream of being an artist is the dream of being self-employed. Often when we think of working artists, we imagine a jet-setting life of all-the-time creativity. Sometimes that’s true, but statistically, that life isn’t the norm – not by a long shot. Being a full-time creative is about being a businessperson and entrepreneur. It’s about knowing how to manage yourself, how to diversify, and how to live within the confines you set for yourself.

Let’s break that down:

• How to manage yourself
• How to diversify
• How to set boundaries

These are the pillars upon which successful artists build their businesses. 

My career, which has spanned nearly 10 years of successful “artisting”, has consisted of adapting as I go. Realizing what works and what doesn’t, fast and with smooth transitions, is the life of an artist. 

Here are my top 10 tips for becoming a successful working artist. Or, for working for yourself in general.

1. Set boundaries. The self-employment life is alluring, largely for the freedom it will grant you. Especially if you come from a more structured job, it can feel all at once incredible and overwhelming to suddenly have no boundaries. The people I know who are self-employed have an insane work ethic. They know how to prioritize, how to set goals, and how to create structure. 
   1. Find your most productive 4 hours of the day. What time do you work best? Figure that out first. If your most productive hours are from 6am-10am (like me), prioritize those hours. Set your most difficult and, if we’re honest, least attractive goals for that time. You will feel naturally more energetic to get them finished. 
   2. Don’t let “norms” get in the way of you doing you. A lot of people I’ve mentored feel bad if they hate getting up early. My advice? OWN IT. If you’re a night person, utilize that time to get your work done. You don’t have to fit into a stereotype, and you’ll find yourself much more productive if you simply choose the times that are right for you.

2. Set goals. In this case, I don’t care if you’re not a goal-oriented person. If you’re not, it’s very likely that you will fail at being self-employed. You need to develop an amazing sense of forward momentum to be self-employed, and particularly as an artist. Your mind needs to be able to think in three ways:

1. The past – note what tactics work and don’t work, but be willing to move on fast. Analyze every decision you’ve made and don’t make the same mistakes twice. Even when you find yourself making great choices, try not to rely on repeating them. Always move a step forward.
2. The present – know what you want to accomplish day to day. 
3. The future – this is where you can let your big dreams shine. Think about the dreams that you wish your business would embody. After you’ve thought them through, start to set long-term goals to achieve until you fulfill the largeness of the dream down the line. 

3. Manage yourself well. Managing yourself has a lot to do with goal setting and organization, but it has equally to do with mindset. It is your job to figure out how you work best (alone or in a group) and where you work best (from home, in public on a laptop, or in an office).  

1. Set up the workspace you will thrive in. Don’t skimp. Many people, especially visual artists, are deeply influenced by their surroundings.
2. Set up a ritual. Light a candle, put on background music, have tea or coffee, etc. Find a routine that brings you peace. For example, every time I light the candle in my office, my brain knows to settle into work mode. Every time I play a certain playlist of songs, my brain knows to settle into editing mode. It’s great to have comforting sensory cues to dive into work. 

4. Diversify, diversify, diversify! I don’t know a single artist – literally, not one single artist – who makes their living through one revenue stream. This is how I’ve made my money: print sales, licensing images for book covers/album art/website design/movie posters, commissioned images for individuals/bands/authors, writing books and articles, teaching workshops, motivational speaking, sponsorship and partnerships, and hosting retreats….That’s 8 categories, and a total of 14 different ways that money might come into my life.

1. How can you diversify? Think of the ways in which your passions can be profitable. I’ll share a more in-depth version of this topic in the future. 

5. Plan, list, calendar, go. “But Brooke, I’m not a list person.” I. Don’t. Care. One thing all self-employed people have in common is they run a tight ship. Either they hire someone to take care of these things for them because they know they don’t excel at it, or they get better at it. I was not an organized person. Some would argue I’m still not. But I have learned how to be a list/calendar/planner person. 

1. Get a physical daily planner. You might balk at this, but my experience is that if I write it down physically, it feels more pertinent and important. It sticks in my head better. I am absolutely addicted to crossing items off a page. 
2. Sync an online calendar. I use Google Calendar for my appointments. I have reminders set to email me 20 minutes before my meetings. I write copious notes about said meetings in the calendar event. I sync my calendar with my husband and a friend who helps me out when I need it. 
3. Make a long-form to do list. I also use the Google suite to do this (tasks in the email client). I keep my everyday items that I want to accomplish in my daily physical planner, but I keep my long-running to do items in my more permanent list in Gmail. These items include things like: Emails to follow up on, people to pay or request payment from in the future, prints to ship, etc. Things that can’t be done today, but need to be done soon.

6. Get your email under control. Seriously. Are you listening? I used to be the worst at email – it would sometimes take me months to write back to people. I lost jobs, contacts, and respect by operating this way. Then I hired an assistant, and things got better, but still weren’t perfect. Then I lost my assistant, and I took over again 100% alone. Guys, I work entirely alone. I have no help. IT CAN BE DONE!

1. I have a 48-hour email policy. To be honest, it’s more of a 24 hour policy as I almost always respond on a daily basis, but I do take weekends off, so times can vary slightly. Choose a time frame that works for you and stick to it like your career depends on it. Spoiler: it does.
2. Choose a time to write your emails. I write my emails first thing in the morning. I feel most refreshed then, most eager, and it is the beginning of my peak productivity. I thrive off of getting emails done first thing. It makes me feel mega-accomplished and I love that I can essentially ignore my inbox for the rest of the day. 
3. Write email templates. I get a lot of emails that are essentially the same requests. For example, every single day I get an email from a school student who wants an interview for an assignment. There is no way I could answer all of those emails in the way they want, so I made a template. I send a generic, although very helpful, response to everyone. It essentially says thank you, that I’m busy, and it lists a bunch of links to interviews I’ve done so that they can find what they need there. 
   1. Think about what emails you get that you could streamline. Is there a generic response you could copy/paste to them? I save my templates in my email drafts folder and use them as needed. Another template I use frequently is for print requests. 

7. Artists, keep charts. I don’t know how you feel, but I feel a deep, intrinsic repulsion to excel spreadsheets. In all honesty, I really don’t love keeping them, but I so appreciate that I do. Before you even get your business up and running, or if it already is and you need to check yourself, implement the following:

1. Print Sales Spreadsheet. I keep a detailed list of all the images I’ve printed, where they are (with me or a gallery), if they have sold, when they sold if so, what edition the print is, what size the print is, what paper it is printed on, and the title of each image. Set up this spreadsheet asap and you’ll never lose track of your print info. I use Google Drive for all of this so I can access it anywhere, anytime, from any device (pending internet). 
2. Licensed Image Spreadsheet. Similar to above, I have a sheet that tracks what images are licensed (the terms, the date, the image, etc.). 
3. Income tracker! I’m the worst at this one. Anyone else feel a little yick when it comes to money tracking? My aversion is terrible. It’s not attractive. You know what is attractive? Getting paid what you’re due. Track the money you are owed, and ask for it, too. 

8. Create pricing handouts. When I say handout, I mean digital. For example, I have a pricing sheet for my prints that I can pass on to buyers, galleries, and design agencies. It’s a simple JPG that I email to anyone asking that states my print information, sizing/editioning stats, and prices. If you want to make money, chances are you’ll have to state a price. Making a price sheet is a great way of showing someone that you already have prices established and they will be less likely to haggle with you. 

9. Find a healthy reward that motivates you. It’s easy to get your emails finished with the promise of cookies afterward, but we can’t very well eat a bunch of cookies on a daily basis. Find a way to motivate yourself that is healthy for you. I have three main ways of motivating myself. One is to go to the grocery store. It sounds weird, but I LOVE grocery shopping. It’s one of my favorite things to do out of the house. If I have a task I’m particularly dreading, I take myself out after to do some meal planning. Either that, or I go for a hike. The second thing I do to motivate myself is a little thing I call “nice cream”. I am sweet obsessed, but too much sugar makes me feel sick. So, I make nice cream (spoiler: it’s just frozen banana, cocoa powder, and oat milk). The third way I motivate myself is to watch TV. I’m a total sci fi lass and I love getting to vegetate for a little while after doing something I don’t like. Find your own motivators! 

10. Do you know what every successful entrepreneur that I know has in common? They know their value and how they provide value to others. If ever you lack motivation to create or run your business (and yes, it will happen), make sure you know the answers to those questions. Write down what value you bring to the world. Refer back to that answer often. Make your answer a natural part of you. You’ll have to take breaks – that’s normal – but it’s good to go back to your why. 

Your Immediate To Do List:

1. Choose the time of day you work best. 
2. Write down your biggest goals of the future and save them in a place you can access regularly.
3. Write out all of the ways – no matter how far fetched – you could make money from your craft.
4. Get yourself a physical daily planner.
5. Set an email response goal for yourself.
6. Type out any email templates that would be helpful.
7. Establish your firm pricing and create a handout for it.

Would you like me to host an online seminar about this? Comment and let me know if it would be helpful!