The Studio Source helps you build an extraordinary business by focusing on approach—how you show your stuff, how you connect with your customers, and how you manage the business side of creativity.
Stacey Cornelius
I'm a raving idealist, idea junkie, and creative entrepreneur with a Fine Art degree. I have professional experience in retail, theatre, and the IT industry. I'm here to show you how to make marketing part of your creative process. Contact Me
What happens when you fail?
If you do it right, you learn, sometimes a lot. You learn to suck it up and move on. You learn to trust your gut. You learn what everybody else is doing might not be right for you.
Mostly you learn your roof won’t cave in, the wheels won’t fall off your car, and embarrassment is not a fatal condition.
Procrastinating yourself into a panic isn’t a good long-term business strategy. You’ll burn out, and maybe even regret turning something you love into a business.
Making art is the fun part, and that’s good—it’s the most important component of a successful creative practice. But you still have to get busy selling (and taking care of all your business-business stuff).
Have you given some serious thought about what motivates you? Would you like someone to hang out with you in your studio to get you moving?
In response to my post about the hazards of business gurus, Linda posted a comment asking how you know who to trust among the crowd of self-proclaimed experts.
Show of hands—who saw the original Star Wars movie? Technically it was Episode 4, but the first one to hit the big screen. Remember the scene where Ben rescues an unconscious Luke Skywalker and then reveals he’s really Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi? Remember how he put Luke through his wanna-be Jedi Knight paces?
That’s who you trust.
Castle Urqhart sits on the rugged shore of Loch Ness in Scotland. If you’re lucky when you visit, you will go with a small guided tour. The savvy tour operator will drop you off before you reach the site, so you can take in the spectacular view of both the castle and the loch at your own pace as you approach it from the road above.
If you time it right, you will be there in the autumn. The weather will be blustery and unsettled. Threatening clouds will give way to unexpected moments of bright sunlight that eerily illuminate the landscape.
Editor’s note: I hadn’t intended to do a two-art post on the Myth of Everybody, but casting your customer net too wide is a common problem and worth discussing.
Once upon a time there was a restaurant that offered a huge menu consisting of three types of ethnic food. The menu was so big you could tie a string to it and fly it in a stiff breeze.
The food was, in my humble opinion, a celebration of staggering culinary mediocrity. It was entirely without character—everything tasted like it either came out of a can or was from the “just add water” supply store.
That may sound harsh, but I take my food very seriously.
You run into trouble when you try to sell to everybody. You are forced to dumb down what you have to offer, even if your fascinating combination of goodies gives you lots to talk about.
Ironically, having lots to talk about doesn’t necessarily make for a compelling story.
