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.

A self-portrait does not have to be the whole self. If you’re not there yet with that kind of work (and it is a deep, long-lasting work), only use a part of yourself. A hand, your hair – get creative! And if you feel like you can push yourself, create a full-fledged self-portrait!

This means you are the one working the camera and in front of it. I’ve created over 500 self-portraits in the past 10 years. Whew. Jump on board with me!

I’ll pull some of the art that I see this week to feature!
Use the hashtag #PromotingPassionChallenge so I can find you!

Here is some food for thought. Enjoy the challenge, and remember to push yourself creatively!

There was a long period of time when I felt like everything I made had to be amazing. Screw that.

I’m so far past that I think I might be going in the opposite direction. I liken it to choosing friends when you’re really young.

At first, you want everyone to be your friend. You have an insatiable desire to be liked. And you quickly learn what behaviors are widely accepted and which are not, so perhaps, you adopt the behaviors that reward you with praise.

And then you realize how exhausting it is to keep up that many friendships, and how unmanageable it is to spread yourself so thin. You start to get anxious over presenting yourself in the best way possible, and you worry that if your friends see you for who you are – imperfect – they won’t like you any more.

And some day, you rebel against that. You clean closet. You get rid of friends that don’t accept you for your weirdness and your flaws.

Well folks, here we are. I cleaned out my closet a while back. Since then, I’ve been sharing my failed images. I’ve been sharing the times when I hate creating, or nothing goes right. I’ve been sharing those moments of sheer panic, frustration, and anxiety. I share everything. Everything art-related, it’s all out there.

I’ve stopped caring if you (the broad You), think I’m a bad artist or a good one, or an artist at all. I don’t care if you hate my art, share my art, wish my art had never been made. I don’t care if you make fun of me, think I’m weird, or any other mundane, idiotic thing someone might think.

Because honestly, it is boring. And it is silly. And it’s not worth our time – mine or yours.

So if you’re here, it’s likely because you’re weird too. Because you accept me for who I am. Because we’re weirdos and we love it, and hey world, we don’t care.

Speaking of that long period of time where I did care what people thought, seeing as it took a while for me to be as empowered in my weirdness as I am now: I used to be ashamed when I made something that wasn’t great.

This new image I made the other day isn’t my best. But I love it. It satisfied a primal need to create. I wanted to make something where before there was nothing. One of the greatest and most interesting things about humans is our desire to play God – to create where once there was nothing. In so many ways. Artists are the obvious example.

So I made this thing. It’s a self-portrait covered in hands. I’ve done that before. I touch on this a lot in my voicemail. And when I finished it, I thought, “Hmph. It looks a lot like other images I’ve made. It’s not special. I shouldn’t share this.”

And then I realized what I just did. I just degraded something I made simply because it isn’t the most fresh and new thing. Simply because I thought YOU might be bored with it.

And when I say YOU, I mean the YOU of the Internet that steps on artists who don’t fit their vision. People who think that art is made for them, personally. People who get bored too easily because that’s the time we live in. And the people who don’t care how fulfilled an artist is by their own work.

That is not you, because you’re still reading this. (Well done, by the way. I ramble).

I loved making this picture.
I love this picture.
I love creating. Everytime. No matter the outcome.

I’m so glad that I’m intentionally making time for myself to create no matter what. No matter the whim or inspiration; no matter the hang-worthiness of it. No matter. No matter.

And that is what I wish you for you. To create without worry. To create because you must. To create because you feel a primal urge to make something out of nothing. To create, no matter what.

No matter.

No matter.

Inspiration & moons,
Brooke

I need to explain some complexities of my personality to properly tell you where I’m going lately.

The first is that I spend a lot of time in introspection – in my head. I think A LOT. I stare a blank walls and papers, A LOT. I am not easily bored. All of that thinking leads to little discoveries that excite me and I love to experience those little excitements and surprises. And then, I condense those thoughts down to bite-size chunks, which I share in blurbs on social media.

As a result, you see the squished up version of my brain on a regular basis, if you watch my posts. But the implication of that is multi-tiered.

One – I come off as being very heady and connected to my deepest emotions at all times. I’m not.

Two – I don’t show you my…fun?…personality a lot. Fun is definitely the wrong word. I’ve literally never described myself that way. So…maybe…free-spirited? or restless? or disjointed? or laid-back? or…

In any case, three – Sharing those little blurbs means that I’m not sharing the works-in-progress – the thoughts that jumble up and make less sense and feel more and desire condensation but aren’t ready for that.

So, here I am. Journaling. Letting anyone who wants to be here into my brain in a less curated way. The result: voice memos, journal-style vlogging where I’ll share all the different types of creativity I’m up to, and more laid-back sharing of content no matter the genre.

I’ll share updates about my novel-writing process, the new photo series I’m working on (both of them!), my sculpture projects, and more.

What does more include? Well…hiking (where I location scout and find inspiration), reading (where I imaginary location scout and find inspiration), traveling ( where I dream location scout and find inspiration)…speaking of dreams, I’d love to tell you about mine. They’re terrifying. Nights are exciting in my house.

So, here we are in journal one.

And here’s what I’m feeling.

Anxious. Because, well…I want to be more vulnerable. But even that is a lesson and a chore, because it doesn’t always come easy. I’m a really private person and will remain that way in my personal life. So sometimes it’s hard to separate creativity from personal stuff. And sometimes that makes vulnerability hard. But it can work, and here I am, trying.

Fulfilled. Because I know that detailing my adventures in creativity and inspiration will bring me even more depth and inspiration.

Silly. Because…who wants to read this? Or rather, and more importantly, because I don’t care who reads it and I’m doing it anyway.

I’ve never journaled before. Never. Never had a written notebook of my thoughts (except for that summer I tried to impersonate Harriet the Spy). Never had an interest in remembering my days. Never had an interest in parsing through my thoughts that way.

To be honest, I think quick, I process easily, and I don’t lament the past.

But I want to push myself into new ways of exploring and connecting.

For context, here are some projects I’m working on:

• I have a new body of work that will be displayed in New York in June. I’m knee-deep in preparations for that, but the snow has been keeping me from shooting a lot. I’m aiming for the first week of March when the snow is meant to be melted to dive in big time. I’ve been sourcing props from my local antique store and I’ve got very in-depth images planned. It’s a series about rebuilding humanity. I kind of love it. (a lot).

• I’m working on a very personal series about grief and death that I’ve talked about a lot in these parts. No news of where it will debut or when. It’s constantly changing. But it’s so, so fun to shoot. Think paint and syrup and clay and dirt and everything wonderful in the world. And decay. Obviously.

• Novel! Novel novel novel! Is that word starting to lose its meaning to you? ME TOO. I wrote my novel for four years, realized how bad it was, threw it away, and became a student of the craft of writing. I’ve read 70 books in the past 1.5 years and started from scratch writing a detailed outline. That’s getting edited RIGHT NOW, ya’ll!!!!

• Art book, whaaaaat! That’s a long time coming. My first fine art coffee table book is coming out later this year. It’ll be a 256 page beauty of my work from the past decade that I can’t tell you any more about, yet. YET!

• Promoting Passion Roadshow! For four years I’ve hosted the Promoting Passion Convention, and I decided this year to do mini Promoting Passion events in more cities so that more people could join in. I’m working hard on it right now, confirming cities/venues/guest speakers. It’s hard work, no kidding. I’ll tell you more about that next month.

• I’ve had to put ceramics on the back burner lately because it is the least developed of my artforms and personal things have taken a front seat in that time slot. Maybe MAYBE more on that later.

In the spirit of this journal, let me tell you how I felt this past weekend:

Anxious beyond reason, because I haven’t been able to work on my new series much between travel, snow, and just plain indecision. I rarely suffer from indecision. WHAT EVEN IS THAT? So I was freaked out and frantically trying to find a solution. My solution: GO SHOOT EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE RIGHT NOW. So I did. And it was terrible. Obviously. So my husband sat with me for 2 hours as we re-hashed the images and figured out a creation plan. Whew.

I also recognized my need to be in complete control. It’s a constant battle over here. First, because my sister was in the hospital having gallbladder surgery, I was desperate to go be with her. But, in all honesty, she didn’t want me hanging around her room while she was trying to sleep. So I had to take a step back. And that reminded me that I tend to be a bulldozer. I think I know what’s best and I trudge forward no matter the cost. So I took a step back and recognized that art often imitates life, and that I need to chill out and let things flow.

And in the coming week…

I’ve got a Sony Alpha Female retreat to attend (YAY and HORRIFYING). I am such a socially anxious person that even typing this made me breath really shallow and feel a shaking in my stomach. I kind of want to throw up. The thought of being in a group of women, no matter how inspiring, where I don’t get to be the unequivocal leader…is NOT my jam.

I am only comfortable in a group if I am the leader of it. It’s something I recognize about myself as a character flaw and as an asset. Right now, it is what it is. But I’m committing and showing up so that I can help the women there as much as possible…and even open myself to being helped, too.

See, I struggle with that immensely. I don’t like to be helped. I like to be in control, as I mentioned. So in any case, that’s the big issue of the week that I’m working through, and I’ll let you know how it goes next week.

What have been the highs and lows of the past week for you? What are you excited about this week?

Do you think this journaling thing is going to work for me? Do you like the voice memo?

Until then, creative warriors,
Brooke

The creative process. Is it usually the same for you each time you create, or is it different? Maybe even drastically different? Do you know what to expect or is it a surprise?

I work from routine best, so my shoots usually go to plan, or at least follow very similar steps. Here are most common steps for my shooting process, as you’ll see from start to finish in this in-depth video:

1. Brainstorm
2. Sketch
3. Write
4. Costume/Props
5. Set the camera
6. Test shot
7. Shoot
8. Cull images
9. Edit image
10. Share!

I often wish I was different so that I could embody more of a traditional artist spirit. For example possessing any of the following traits would be kind of great: wanderlust, spontaneity, or fits of inspiration.

Well, that third one does happen sometimes. But in general, I am predictable and even-keeled. That doesn’t mean that I don’t surprise myself, that I am not wildly inspired, or that I don’t enjoy a big adventure. Simply, that I don’t thrive under those conditions all the time. I love to work with a list, an itinerary, and a closely monitored clock.

I actually attribute these characteristics in myself to success. Because of my frighteningly equal split of Type A and Type B personalities, I can focus, understand my tasks, and get work done efficiently. But, because I am naturally creative, I have lofty dreams, big ambitions, and a wild imagination. They work in really good unison and harmony to create steadfast creativity.

Steadfast creativity. What is it?

It is the knowledge that creativity will always be there.

It means not relying on inspiration to strike like lightning.

It’s cultivating what inspires you to draw upon that any time.

I don’t like uncertainty. But I especially don’t like it when it comes to my imagination. I want to know that it is a muscle I have worked so much that it remembers what to do in a pinch.

I think that is why I’ve taken such a step by step approach to photography. It helps me to understand my job, which frees up my mind to focus on more creative tasks. If I’m confused by my process, I can’t focus on my creativity. Plain and simple.

So, that’s my creative process! What is yours? How do you work best?

Although the name of this post is a literal representation of what our video shows today (because I’m an early bird and I am constantly early to everything, including the sunrise)…it is also a metaphorical nod at what I really want to dig into.

Working alone.

And I don’t just mean physically. In this new video we take a look at how I work 100% alone when I go out on shoots. That means using myself as a model while thinking about everything a photographer must consider: light quality/direction, background, lens choice, angle, wardrobe, props, pose, exposure settings, etc.

You work alone. I work alone. At some point, we find ourselves utterly alone.

Even if not literally – maybe you work in an office with people or have a loving partner or friends – but eventually, you will find yourself with a dream that only you has, and you won’t know how to achieve it. Your friends will think you’re a little nuts, the internet won’t give you any great answers, and you’re left alone.

That is the darkness I’m talking about. The want-it-so-bad-but-can’t-find-help kind of darkness. What to do? I think I’ve made a game out of working alone, or at least that’s how it feels. I’ve done it for so long and in so many ways.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs
and developing our wings on the way down.”
– Kurt Vonnegut

I’ve put together a list of what I’ve learned from being a professional loner.

1. Your mistakes will not break you.

The first time I wrote to galleries I was 22 years old. I put 100 gallery emails, after a ton of research, in the TO line of my email. Not the BCC line…And I hit send. It was a terrible move, the kind that many less optimistic people would give up at after receiving some very harsh emails back, such as I did.

Here’s the point in my telling you this. Nothing really matters. If you mess up trying to walk through one door, the world doesn’t close all other doors. I messed up a lot. I did stupid things like that mass email. I made prints and dented and scratched them. I misprinted. I broke frames in transit. I didn’t insure my pieces and they got damaged. I didn’t know how to talk to galleries. I wrote unprofessional emails. And despite making a TERRIBLE impression on a LOT of people, I still managed a career.

Please, please, I’m begging you: stop believing that one mistake will lead to your downfall. In my experience, the easiest way to fail at your goal is to stop trying because you made a mistake, not because of the mistake itself.

2. No one knows anything.

People look like they know a lot. People want you to think they know a lot. And some people do. About their industry, about their journey, but not about yours.

You know how we’re all adults pretending to be grown up but we’re not really grown up, we’re just pretending? What’s that? You don’t know what I’m talking about, and you really are a grown up and an adult at the same time? Well then, I misjudged you. But for the vast majority of us, we’re guessing. We’re playing this game where we look like adults and so we try to do things that make us adults, but really we’re children inside navigating a giant and scary world.

Don’t count on anyone to guide you. Don’t count on anyone to know your path. Just guess at it, like we do everything else.

Let’s get that straight right from the get-go. Yes, some people have been successful. Maybe even in what you’re looking to do. Yes, some people make a lot of money. Maybe even in what you’re looking to do. But if you try to pursue the same avenue they did, it won’t work. The more creative your endeavor, the more solidly you can expect that to be true.

Let’s take my journey as a fine art photographer. My dream was to exhibit in galleries. I asked around and couldn’t find any consistent advice.

“Make a ton of prints at once and then try to sell those over a few years,” one person told me. “Make prints as they are ordered and don’t waste your money,” another person said. “Number your prints out of 200” versus “number your prints out of 5″…and so on.

And yet, it worked out.

3. Could you please commit to being weird already?!

The most successful people (and I’m using successful not only to mean monetarily, but also through innovation and creativity) are people who did things differently. They thought differently, created differently, and dreamed differently.

You are an artist. You are already different – other, unusual, outside – so you know what it means to think differently. If someone said to you, “Your art is the same as everyone else’s art,” you would take that as an insult. But if someone said, “Your business is the same as everyone else’s business,” you might feel relief that you’re doing it “right”.

Something is broken in how we work. Artists should embrace the unknown in every aspect of what they do.

4. Stop searching the internet. Search your brain instead.

This will sound harsh, but think about it before you judge me:

How often do you reach for the closest search engine when you have a question, be it the never ending wait, what is that actor’s name?! to how do I become a professional artist?!, or some variation thereof?

Classes, workshops, mentors, Google searches, emails to professionals…it never stops.

What if you gave yourself a challenge that for one month you had to make every decision based on really and truly thinking it through with no outside aid, not even running it past a friend, coupled with a little help from your guts – your intuition?

Could you get through a month like that? I don’t think I know many people who are willing to make big decisions, especially about their creativity and business, without looking up something comparable.

I think this is severely hurting our ability to take risks and be confident in ourselves. We are so constantly looking for validation in our choices that it has become part of our habitual process. This needs to stop.

5. Failure to Fail.

I believe that because we are so unwilling to fail at so many things, we have developed an ironic failure to fail. Call it F to F syndrome. It happens when we are so afraid of messing up that we a) do nothing at all, or b) look for an exact roadmap until we start becoming someone else.

The shoe doesn’t fit. Stagnation does not become us. And the only way out is to make time to fail, and recognize that we will also, most likely, find the time to succeed.

I am most proud of my willingness to fail.

I fail at photo shoots about once ever 2 weeks or more. I fail at business attempts a few times a week. I receive rejection emails, I am told no often. I hear silence most of the time when I send an email out into the void.

Sometimes I end up covered in molasses half naked in the woods with no one around to help me and a picture that looks like crap.

You know, normal stuff.

And despite that…

No, because of that…

I feel that I am more successful than I have ever been, and certainly more so than I ever expected.

Listen, a lot goes into success. It isn’t just trying hard and trying often, trusting yourself and making mistakes. It is about producing great work. It is about developing a great work ethic. It is about learning and education – yes, take those workshops, put in those hours. But don’t let it be a crutch. Be great in your own right, not in someone else’s.

Today for White Wall Wednesday I celebrate this unique, personal, fulfilling and difficult journey we are all on. Today is another day. A day to say:

Screw this, I’m making choices for myself and by myself.
My failures will not end me and my successes will buoy me.

How will you proudly push
forward in your own darkness?

Leave a comment.

Opportunity?

Success?

The right moment?

It is so easy to wait. I fall into this trap regularly. I think to myself, “This isn’t a good time, surely things will get better.” Or I say, “I’ll wait to do this until I have more _________,” insert whatever word fits for you: money, time, energy, hope, help, tools, gear, etc.

There are many things I’ve put off in my life. Making a documentary. Creating a fine art book. Publishing my novel. Just to name a few.

But at the same time, there are many things I have done. I am not someone who sits and counts the seconds on the clock. I ignore the clock entirely, most days. I do what feels right despite the risk. I am, at heart, a perpetual risk-taker.

But even those of us whose brains seemed to be blocked from whatever tells us something is dangerous, it still creeps in.

That is how I know it must for other people, too. I make excuses, though I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t. We all do.

But what if we didn’t? What if we didn’t need the life raft that excuses let us hold on to and instead we swam, for dear life, to the place where our dreams dwell?

Where would you end up?

Where would you end up if you
let go of your life raft and swam?

I’ve been pretty quiet on the video front even though it’s my favorite way of connecting. Travel, working through my art, you know, the usual! But I’m back and creating with you and I can’t wait for you to see this one!

The spirit of White Wall Wednesday is being creative in the space that you have. There are three main ways of doing this:

1. Move your subject to a new background by learning compositing.
2. Transform your wall into a different space rather than cutting your subject. Maybe use set design or composite elements in to make it more interesting.
3. Use an interesting prop or costume so that the blank white wall feels appropriately minimalist.

I went with approach #3 today, and I hope you like the result. But it’s not finished! This is part one of a two part WWW series. I’ve gone ahead and printed this image, and next week I’ll share some experimenting (really, really experimenting because I’ve never done anything like this before!) of how we could further transform the image without any digital techniques. We’re diving into alternative processes!

Share links with me here, or tag them on social media with #WhiteWallWednesday.

For a while there (and I mean the past year and a half), I found it really difficult to create. My ideas seem half-formed, and every time I thought I should be shooting, I just didn’t want to. It was a tough period of time. Last week, after I got home from Promoting Passion, something changed. I took a few days for myself, but then my desire and drive came back. I did an impromptu photo shoot for my new series and I loved it. I shot this yarn image and loved it. I ran outside chasing the fog and had such an amazing time. I edited a couple of photos I had left sitting.

Suddenly I had the energy and excitement for the things I’ve always loved but had put aside. And I realized that my problem was not actually energy or excitement, it was fear.

Isn’t it always?

I’m hesitant to use the word fear because of how flamboyantly it gets tossed around. I didn’t have a direct fear of failure or fear of wasting my time. It was more of a subtle, very-difficult-to-notice fear; a culmination of shoots gone wrong, money wasted, time not spent wisely, laziness with my techniques…and that all built up into an anxiety over creating.

I mentioned in my PPC post that something in me broke. And it was a really, really good kind of breaking. A necessary snap to put me back where I was, but better and more self-aware.

Shooting feels fun again. I want to create. I want to fail. I want to wake up before the sun and run barefoot in a field. I want to shoot on my white wall and take back the power that comes from that.

The power that comes from a white wall. That’s why I do these videos. There is a certain power that comes from shooting with what you have and making it work. Even more power from making it amazing. And even more power from doing it no matter how it turns out. White Wall Wednesday is a taking back of creativity and telling roadblocks to move out of the way, politely, because we’re here to create.

So friends, I hope you embrace your white wall this week. Get some yarn and create whatever it is you want to create. There are no expectations here, except to make something. The very act of creating is where inspiration comes from. The finished product is such a small percentage of the process that we can’t put so much stock in it. What if we only aimed to have a great experience making something? Think of how your art would change.

Happy White Wall Wednesday.

These words are ringing in my head today.

When I was younger, my story went like this:

My sister was very good at art. Taking nude charcoal drawing classes when she was barely a teenager, creating pottery, and painting. I watched her excel at this, and silently, I decided I was not good at art. I let myself be “good” at other things – writing, for example, which I had never known to be an art form. These things don’t always occur to young people. I took a photography class, and I was the worst at it. I tried hard, and it didn’t help.

And so the narrative grew and grew until, without ever realizing it, I had decided I would never paint or sculpt or draw. I decided I could not. I was beyond help or skill or talent. Learning was not for me.

I regained my confidence as an artist when I pursued film-making. And then again when I became a photographer. But, in some way, those mediums were distinctly different from the raw talent of handmade art.

Up until two weeks ago, I would have continued to tell you that I can’t draw, that I can’t sculpt, that I can’t paint.

In fact, not a month ago I sat with my sister playing with Play Doh. Fast as lightning she made a fish, and then a dinosaur, and so on, until she demonstrated how quickly and easily her brain works in 3D, how she can collect the likeness of reality into clay.

I sat staring at my whale flattened to the table, entirely 2D, and not realistic in the slightest, and that feeling came back to me from childhood. And I joked that I was bad at this, and we all laughed as we do, and I moved on.

But a few weeks ago I saw a class pop up in my email from my local art center.

Ceramics for Beginners.

I clicked it, left it up in my browser for days, debating.

And then I enrolled. Without hesitation or further thought.

And I went to my first class. It was terrifying.

Take control back of your narrative.
&
Cultivate a positive story for your life.

In the comments (either here or on YouTube), let me know…

What is the narrative that you need to change?