A celebration and a little surprise
Many years ago, I found myself watching a Hallowe’en street party. It was a nighttime Mardi Gras-style event, with costumes galore, ranging from discount store masks to full-on, enormous, made-from-scratch wearable sculptures.

I was distracted from the revelry by movement a few feet away from me, and just under my usual line of sight.

A large, dark green plastic garbage bag began to lean, apparently about to tip over. Then, without warning, the bag sprouted a pair of court shoes and waddled away.

I have no clear recollection of any of the other costumes at the event.

That one simple but brilliant idea, so perfectly executed, has stayed with me to this day.

Dare to be simple (and powerful)
You don’t have to make the most noise to stand out in the crowd.

You don’t have to be the biggest.

You don’t have to spend the most money.

People are hungry to celebrate creativity and imagination. Your creativity and imagination.

One simple, elegant idea can make an unforgettable impression.

Take your ideas, make them real, and show the world.

Do not compromise.

About the author: Stacey Cornelius is a writer and artist who helps creatives cut through the clutter to build great businesses. Check out her Services here. Want high speed inspiration? Follow Stacey on Twitter.

Life’s an abyss and then you dive.
When you work on a movie or a play, there’s an inevitable nickname given to the production by the cast and/or crew (I once worked on a show dubbed Too Much To Do for Nothing. I have memories of many sequins).

Borrowed from a popular expression about the nature of life, the altered title reflected the strenuous working conditions on The Abyss. And in case you’re wondering, I heard that nickname from a member of the crew long before it hit the Internet.

The creative abyss has many guises
The creative abyss is a shape-shifter. A trickster. Its size, depth and nature are different, depending on who you talk to—and when.

It’s the intimidation of the blank page, screen or canvas, when ideas scatter like frightened birds, fleeing into impenetrable thorn bushes and refusing to be coaxed back into the light.

It’s the dank pit of sudden fear when it’s nearly time to publish, release or unveil.

Or it’s the faster-than-thought mire of social media, when everything becomes post-and-run, don’t-blink-you’ll-miss-it, and 20 minutes is far too late to join a conversation. Everyone is shrieking, “Look at me!” and no one—no one—is listening.

Sometimes the abyss is a deep well of frustration, when all your promotional efforts seem to be in vain, when the echo of No bounces off the cavernous walls around you, and you feel completely and utterly alone.

Other times it’s crowded by a gathering of bitterness and resentment. Someone else gets all the breaks, and who do they think they are, anyway? The air is thick and daylight can’t penetrate.

Don’t be afraid of the dark
But there are other deep places, where the dark is a vast place of dreams and abundant quiet, and where the stars shine bright.

Where the only sound is that of your own thoughts. No chattering from the crowd, no nagging by the nay-sayers.

The dive is a relief, even though challenges await you.

There is no fear, no doubt.

You know what to do.

About the author: Stacey Cornelius is a writer and artist who prefers good stories over sound bites. She empowers creatives to reach their potential in both their work and their marketing. She takes occasional breaks from the online world to recharge her creative batteries and to work on Big Important Projects.

Publish Your Photography Book from Princeton Architectural Press on Vimeo.

Princeton Architectural Press is about to release a book about… publishing a book. Publish Your Photography Book talks about the current state of the publishing industry, shows readers how a book is created, and how to market a photography book.

Authors Darius D. Himes and Mary Virginia Swanson made a three minute video about the project that contains some great information in three short minutes. I translated them into straight-up marketing tips below, but you should give the video a look. It’s very well done, and reminds us about the possibilities open to all of us to get our work in front of an audience.

1. Know what you’re about—can you summarize your most recent body of work?
2. Refine your concept. Marketing is a package made of a number of elements.
3. Do your research.
4. Know what your audience’s price point is (don’t try to sell to the wrong crowd).
5. Buyers are as individual as artists.
6. Small is beautiful.
7. Design matters (good marketing is something you design).

Have your say: is there any other sage advice you’d like to add after watching the video?

In the world of marketing, we talk about stories. Not “I was born in a small town and drew pictures on my bedroom wall” stories. Other kinds of stories.

Stories of earth, water, form and fire.

Of a bent back and a tradition that stretches back thousands of years.

Stories of friends, laughter and good meals.

All of those stories are about a most humble material: clay. In the hands of an artist, it becomes sculptures, vessels, objects both beautiful and useful. The message and the work are as individual as the maker.

Well-crafted words meet carefully curated images to create a compelling story.

What’s yours?

Some of you would have received my last post today. Which I sent out via email weeks ago, because my RSS feed was broken.

The good news is I finally found a fix, after many attempts at all the usual solutions, which yielded no results. Thank you, Piotr Krzyzek.

Not as many thanks to Google’s robots, who decided my last post should be sent right out to my email subscribers. Apologies for the duplication.

And, dear reader, if you know someone with a WordPress blog who’s tearing her hair out over a broken RSS feed, you can send her to the good Mr. Krzyzek’s website for a possible fix for her mysterious blank line error when all other fixes have failed. You’ll get to be a tech hero for at least the afternoon, unless she doesn’t know how to muck about with PHP files, in which case it might help if you know how to do that. (Fortunately I have the benefit of IT training, which did nothing for my career path, but bought me a few other bonuses.)

If none of that makes any sense to you, don’t sweat it. And count your blessings. For anyone who’s spent hours trying to fix the infamous blank line error, you have my eternal heartfelt sympathies.

I also have to give credit to the fella, who plugged in a search term I hadn’t thought of and found the silver bullet.

The moral of the story: sometimes the only way to find the answers you need is to ask the right question.

Not too long ago, I was talking to an artist about the way some people react to her prices. She was beyond frustrated. “Don’t they know how long this takes?”

Another artist was of the angry opinion that “People are stupid.”

There are way too many people in the industrialized world who have no idea where their food comes from. They think pizza comes out of a box. Why would they know about what you do? How could they even begin to know?

Don’t take knowledge for granted
We live in a society inundated with cheap, mass-produced, imported goods. Discount stores and sale signs are everywhere. We’ve come to expect factory prices, not lasting quality. We’re trained for consumption, not curiosity.

So no, they don’t know how long it takes to make something with your head, your heart, and your hands. They’ve been conditioned not to think about it.

Ironically, that conditioning gives you a perfect opportunity to open up a mind. To start a quiet revolution. To become a champion for your art.

Become a champion for your profession
You could call it arts advocacy, but that might make you think of structured activities organized by an institution. So let’s not go there. A champion is more exciting than an advocate, much livelier than a supporter, and way less annoying than a crusader. Plus you can picture yourself wearing a cape, or at least a team sweater, when you run into someone who makes an unfortunate comment and you need to keep your composure.

You shouldn’t try to convert every doubter or naysayer you come across. Some of them don’t want to listen. But if someone asks a question, you have the chance to start a real conversation, to introduce them to the mysterious world behind your studio doors.

You know the crowd that understands and appreciates what you do is smaller than you’d like. You want to find ways to expand your audience. Sometimes those opportunities land right at your feet. The people who take the time to ask questions are either on the fence, ready to be coaxed over to your side, or close to it. Give them a thoughtful invitation into your world, and you might get them hooked for life.

Over to you: what’s the strangest—or best—question anyone’s ever asked you about art? What’s the question you most want to ask people outside your artistic circle?

Have you ever watched an acting company prepare for a show? It’s a fascinating experience.

First, the actors, director and stage managers sit down for a read-through—just the people and the script—to get a feel for the play. Then rehearsals begin. The director works out the blocking—where he wants the actors to enter and exit, where they should stand and move on the set to convey the right message to the audience.

There are more rehearsals.

The set is built, the lights are hung, the sound guys do their work, the actors adapt to their new environment.

The costumes enter the fray. The actors have to get comfortable in them, particularly if it’s a period piece (I’ve never worn a corset, but I know how they’re constructed. I’ll pass).

There’s at least one full dress rehearsal.

Next it’s preview night, where there’s an audience, but it’s generally for invited guests—a friendly crowd.

It’s only then that the show opens for real.

So when you think about all that preparation, the adjustments, the fine-tuning, should you try to get your website copy, your bio, or your business card right the first time?

Or should you take some time to get a feel for what’s working, tweak and polish it before it hits the stage?

Trying to get it right the first time will drive you crazy. Try getting it first. Then get it right.

For more bits of advice, cool art and design info, and the occasional link to cartoons on YouTube, follow me on Twitter.

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans—the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.”

W.H. Murray
Scottish Himalayan Expedition

There are people who would have you believe that positive thinking will make all your dreams come true. There are enough self-help books pushing that message to sink a container ship.

The theory is great, but translating theory into practice rarely shows you where the potholes are. And just thinking it doesn’t make things happen. You have to choose. You have to act. You have to work at it.

What gets you through is the commitment. Not hanging on out of pride, but the knowledge that not everything will go according to plan, that there will be setbacks and mistakes, and that is precisely the way things are supposed to unfold. You stumble, you learn, you move forward. Or sideways. Or say, “Damn, this isn’t what I want to do at all,” and have the courage to admit it and dig into what really makes your engine run.

Providence, however you choose to define it, moves when we decide.

Do you approach business that way, too?

There’s nothing like that adrenaline rush you get when your back’s against the wall, when it’s do-or-die time. That sense of urgency pushes you forward.

What if there’s no urgency? What happens to your creative practice?

If you’re making a transition from a job to a business, or from one business to another, or if you’re moonlighting, you have a cushion. Your grocery bill is taken care of.

What would you do if that income suddenly disappeared?

If you make your living with your creative practice, are you playing with fire by putting things off? Are you missing opportunities because you’re comfortable with the way things are?

Forget about deadlines for a minute. What motivates you? What really gets you into the studio? What’s keeping you out?

What’s your favourite damn-the-torpedoes proverb?