Marketing as an artist requires me to take off the Maker hat and put on the Sales hat. These hats each have their own intentions, styles and even language. When I post on Instagram, often it is while wearing the Maker hat, and there is no Call-to-Action, no link to my Etsy shop, no request for patronage. Those posts are partially about documenting my evolution as a maker — for myself, and any interested voyeurs — but also to entice potential voyeurs to peek inside a part of that iterative process, and get curious with me.

Lately this has felt more and more solitary. Despite garnering Likes ™, the impression of not being seen – or more to the point – read, is palpable. More and more I’m craving some connection, with other artists, makers, artistic voyeurs, and creative afficianados. Putting on the Maker hat and turning on the Musing tap feeds me, but I want to bring that to a pot luck with others. Where are my others?

I have a lot to say about the art I’m making, mostly questions, actually. Not questions for you, or even for me, but for a very clear, solid and elusive voice that whispers certainties to me from time to time. It’s a relationship with the owner of this voice that grows wider, deeper, or murkier when I’m in the studio or writing with the Maker hat on. My job is to be an obedient, skilled listener, adept at filtering out any other voices that like to masquerade.

A great deal of my Musings will explore this relationship — or quest for it — and you’re welcome to hop in my sidecar, while I follow the threads. I’ll even tell you the story about when one of my paintings turned into a stark mirror, and I heard a prophecy that came true. One day, I’ll tell you that story.