Moving In Part Two

My last post was full of energy and accomplishment. Boy, oh boy, it felt good to pack up all those pixels from one website and move to a shiny new PScarborougharts.com home.

Just as I was beginning to focus on the itty-bitty but very important details, just as I was really building up a head of steam and feeling like I actually knew what I was doing…

Blink. Blink…blinkety blink-blink blink blinkety blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkoooooooooo…

Black screen. Huh?

No amount of resuscitation on my part made one iota of difference. My computer was flat-lining.

Chest clenching   a g o n y. 

The Patricia Scarborough Arts website was up, it was viewable and clear and lovely to behold, but there was a ton of behind the scenes tech-type stuff to do that I was just beginning to get a handle on. And what if someone actually contacted me about it? Could they? Would they? How would I know?? All of that came to a screeching halt. Some of the screeching was coming from me.

Is anyone there? How would I know?

Not to be deterred, I headed to the public library. After waiting in line for one of a dozen computers, I found myself wedged in between two youngsters intent on saving the world from video game monsters and other extra-terrestrials. Having raised two fine sons I’ve heard about every kind of noise a human boy can make. Even at that, this was a little disconcerting, especially at a library. (As an aside, I have actually been shushed before in this very same library while whispering to a friend as we compared books. That we had read. Quietly, to ourselves.)

After one particularly startling snort I packed it in. This ol' gal needs space and a calm environment to talk her way through Search Engine Optimization and other foreign languages. Space monsters will have to get shot somewhere else.

This week I’ll take a deep cleansing breath, decipher my pile of notes and try to find that technological groove that carried me through the first seven-eighths of this monumental change.  If that doesn’t work, I can always go to the library and hire an 8-year old.

New Site Opening Ceremony

Drum roll please…ready? Pull back the curtain…and…ta da!

Let me introduce you to

P Scarborough Fine Arts Website

A website is essential these days for artists. I’ve had one for a good long while, having been prodded into creating one after taking an Alyson Stanfield Art Business class. Sometimes I even enjoyed maneuvering through the steps of uploading, re-sizing and categorizing the “behind the scenes” elements of website construction.

You know that favorite sweatshirt or pair of shoes that we love and just won't give up? They’re comfortable. Dependable. Steady. We convince ourselves that little hole is actually useful as a heat vent, or maybe a place to reach in and scratch an itch, perhaps a scar that marks the memory of an heroic moment.

Or maybe it’s just an old, worn out raggedy clothing item that is no longer the awesome fashion statement it was back in the day.

Awesome comfy sweatshirt or awesome absorbent paint rag?

 So it was with my former web platform.

Rather than spend time doing what I really love, which is moving pigment around, I gathered up my wits and my patience and started filling boxes of pixels for the move to a fresh new look.

Come on in and look around the brand spanking new P. Scarborough Fine Arts Website. 

There is still progress to be made, I know that. I've compiled a notebook of new passwords and a pile of definitions and directions that, between you and me, I'll probably ignore in favor of poking buttons until something interesting happens. So far I haven't deleted anything permanently. 

Everything I ever wanted to know, and more.

Its time for a break from computer-land. My trusty easel is calling for some attention and I'm more than willing to heed the call. Perhaps when I'm out of awesome paint rags I'll set up shop again in the world wide webs and remodel something else.

Kaleidoscope 2015

Another great Kaleidoscope of Art event has been safely tucked in for the year. The Museum of Nebraska Art in Kearney, Ne. celebrates artists and art patrons by hosting 30 artists for their annual holiday fundraiser.

 MONA was in its infancy when I was growing up in Kearney. It has developed into a first class museum celebrating artists who have ties to Nebraska through heritage or subject matter. This year nearly 700 visitors passed through the front doors to see what area artists have been working on for this special weekend.

My display 

Rick Brown of the Kearney Hub newspaper and I enjoyed a fun and wide-ranging conversation while visitors browsed through the halls of the museum making their purchases.  My answer to a toss-off question he asked surprised us both.

Had this been a successful event, and why?

Evidently others had responded in the usual way; art work had sold, money had changed hands, or at the very least hopeful contacts had been made for future reference.

©2015 Patricia Scarborough Autumn Garden  6x8 oil  Sold

Those are, of course, excellent markers of success. Mine was slightly different. The words that popped out of my mouth were, "Yes it has been successful, because I want to come back next year."

Yes. Yes I do.

These events are a challenge, at least for me. There's the unique preparation for an event of this kind, as well as overnight arrangements, hauling in and setting up, taking down and hauling out. I'm pooped before the doors open for business. Plus I'm a little (or a lot) introverted, and engaging in 2 days of conversations can leave me feeling a little drained.  Often times I leave these affairs thinking, "...never again...".

Yet the answer to Rick's question was, "I'll be back. Why? I made some new friends, caught up with others, and actually had a really terrific time. MONA is a great place to share art and conversation. Plus they provide really good cookies. Oh, and yes, there were sales. That too."

©2015 Patricia Scarborough  Morning!  6x8 oil   Sold

I'll tuck the Kaleidoscope of Arts event in the scrapbook for another year, and mark it on my calendar for the first weekend in November, 2016. You should too.

Mapping it Out

 When I was a child my family would load up the old station wagon, the one minus seat belts and airbags, pack it full of children and suitcases and head out of town to visit relatives. In preparation my mother would show me the plan; carefully unfolding a map of the United States, she used her finger to follow a line as it wandered and wiggled around and through little towns, big cities and the gaps in between until we bumped into the little dot which was our destination.

I can still feel my confusion when we crossed the great Missouri River as planned and found that Iowa was not at all what I expected. On our map, the guide my family used to plot our trip and keep us from getting lost in the jungle or falling off the edge of the world, the map that was printed by a respectable publishing company and was, by all accounts, the best representation of our country’s roads that could be found, Iowa was pink. Nebraska was green, of course. South Dakota was yellow. Iowa was pink.

Only when we got there, it wasn't.  I’m still living that one down.

Regardless of their flaws, I still love maps. I love the idea of starting out at Point A, and through a series of decisions that have been thoughtfully considered, the relative assurance of landing at Point B.  I’m no stranger to detours and side roads. Highways in Nebraska are under construction all the time. Even so, there is still a general understanding that if I am lost, all I have to do is drive south on a paved road. Eventually I’ll end up in Kansas. And from there I’ll know, sort of, where I am in the world.

I love moving through my day that way too. In general, I know what the plan is.

The art world could use a map maker, even it they get some of the wrong color. 

Like my family’s vacation map, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It would be nice to know in general terms where you might end up if you don’t know where you’re going exactly. Iowa can still be pink.

Finding a consistent route to success in this art business on your own is next to impossible. I’ve interviewed gallery owners, successful artists in all media, patrons and museum curators in an effort to find, not necessarily the indisputable only way but simply a way. Or even a few possible ways (excluding of course those routes which most certainly will take you into No Man's Land). It would be helpful to know of a route that is at least within a hundred mile radius of your destination, and will be the same tomorrow as it was today. 

Want guidelines for finding a gallery? A way to make a sell reproductions of your work? A surefire road to success? For every website, artist, how-to book and monthly newsletter there are a ridiculously wide variety of side-roads, subways and super highways to take with no assurance they're going to the same place you are. 

In other words, there is no certain map for you to use. 

Here's why:

Maybe it’s not uncharted territory, but your path is your own. You’ve got to be Sir Stanley to your own Dr. Livingstone, I presume.

My advice, dear reader.  Grab a paper map. Put your finger down on a spot. This is you, right now, in this place.  Notice all the various routes spider-webbing out from this spot? These are visual representations of possibility.

 Some of them will be interesting. 

Some will not. 

A few will take a little longer than others. You may find out that your destination, like Iowa, is not what you expected. At any time you can turn off the route you’ve chosen and try another squiggly line.

That, my friends, is your road map to success in this business.

And don’t forget to enjoy the ride.