Jesse, a work in progress (detail) © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2012. Pencil on paper.

I am 3 days and $900 away from paying my tuition + rent to return to France. Of the total almost $7000 I thought I’d have to pay, having $900 left feels like something akin to a miracle. Between scholarships, sponsorships and generous donations, I am thisclose to officially being able to start my journey.

The most beautiful and magical part about this though is how full of ease it’s been so far.

Part of my theme for this year was to work at my business from a place of love, not fear and never-enoughness. I knew that getting the tuition money together would be the perfect place to practice self-care and love while working to accomplish a goal that feels like it demands sacrifice and slave-like hours.

I have not pulled an all-nighter. Last year I pulled 3 in a row. I have not overworked. I have not forgotten to eat, stopped showering or dropped all of the things that matter to me.

I have worked hard, and steadily, but I have also been making sure that I get 8-10 hours of sleep a night. I have still been making art. I have still taken weekends off and relaxed and enjoyed myself. I have still spent time with my boyfriend, and called friends and chatted to my mum.

I have been working hard to prove to myself that:

1. Motivation from love is more sustainable for my body and my soul.
2. It still works. The money still comes in. I don’t have to pay in pain to get the money that I need.

As the payment date draws closer and the money slowly but surely flows in, I can feel myself wanting to give in to old patterns.

Every cell in my body wants to panic. Desperation keeps sneaking around the edges of my consciousness, looking for cracks to get in. The voices of the old patterns and habits are screaming at me that if we don’t start panicking and run ourselves into the ground with work, this money will not show up because the only way you can make money is by doing things you hate. And if you love something, you have to find ways to make it horrible so that money will come in. (Anyone else have that monster in the closet??)

I have to keep saying no. I have to keep choosing love, self-care, and self-trust. While it’s true that the panicking is pretty effective, it drains me. I can’t make art. I can’t create. I just have to put my nose to the grindstone and grind out the money.

Yuck.

I don’t want to start my journey like that.

I don’t want my journey to be like that.

This journey is about love – love of myself and going for my dreams. Love of my right people (that’s you!) and wanting to create the best work possible. Love of my art and my craft and the inherent poetry in both the things I want to say and in the way that they’re created.

This journey is vital to the work I want to do the in the world. And if my mission and message are about space – space for you, for your dreams, for your soul – then I have to live from that place as well. I can’t tell you that there’s enough space for you to flourish and unfold and blossom and then turn around and punish myself to get the money that I need to do that work.

It’s incongruent. It throws the energy off, like a badly-composed painting.

So despite the fact that 94% of me is howling for blood, sweat and tears and swearing up & down that it’s the only way for me to get that final $900, I’m going to give that part of me a hug and then keep on choosing love.

It’s funny, because the actions themselves don’t look much different – there’s more rest built in, and I keep making time for my art – but I’m still writing and promoting and sharing. I’m still taking steps to build my business, to shine my light, to share my message.

But the energy is different. I take a nap when my body says it needs a nap. I take a break when my mind says it needs one. I’m not pushing myself towards the end goal. I’m expanding myself towards it, by filling myself up with love and ease and trust.

My journey is evolutionary, not revolutionary. One foot in front of the other, baby steps towards my destination. There will be no violent overthrowing of the former regime.

I don’t have to. By choosing love, I’m always going in the right direction. I’m always heading towards my true goal – to create beautiful, meaningful artwork that changes lives.

Artwork that acts like a compass, a talisman, a touchstone. A constant, steady reminder, day in and day out, of your dreams, your loves and your goals. It’s one small way to begin creating the life that you dream of. Gently. With love.

So even though it’s tempting to panic, tempting to give in to those feelings of desperation, I’m going to hold steady to my course and remember that to create the best work for you, I have to create the best life for me. Or else how are you going to believe me?

To read more about my plans, or contribute towards my tuition, click right here.

The Waterseller of Seville, Velasquez (image courtesy of Wikipedia)

This painting changed my life.

I was 16 when I saw it for the first time, in Sister Wendy’s 1000 Masterpieces. (Amaaazing book.)

I saw it, and every part of my heart and soul yearned towards it and whispered, “I want to do that.”

Last year, I spent 6 months learning how to do that. I was hooked. Six months wasn’t enough. I wanted, needed more.

So I applied to return. As some of you know, I found out last Friday that I was accepted again. What I didn’t mention was the generous scholarship I was given in the name of an alumni of the school who died earlier this year, struck down by cancer.

I also didn’t mention the generosity of a former classmate who believes in me and my dedication so much she’s contributing a large sum towards the costs of the first 3 month program.

The total for tuition and housing for that program came to just over $6500. I received just over $4500 in financial support. I am speechless. I am humbled. I am honoured.

I still have to pay the final $2000ish by next Friday, January 20^th. There are still $30,000 in other program expenses and living costs to be paid this year.

But if this isn’t starting on the right foot, I don’t know what is.

I wrote to my newsletter subscribers that I feel like I just took vows at a convent. While I’m excited to be spending the majority of my time in France for 18 months, I’m truly looking forward to so much time spent in the deep meditation and contemplation of my art.

The days have a monastic feel – they are regular, steady, organized. You spend much of your time in silence, studying the model and the flow of life before you. You search deeper every day as you try and understand more and more of what you see.

It’s not easy – it’s a lot of work. But it’s deeply satisfying work.

I realize that I’ve just used “deep” 3 times to describe the coming months, but it’s the best word I can come up with to describe to you what I mean. I am diving deep into my art, both the craft and the poetry; they’re intertwined.

It’s work that’s important to me. It’s what I feel intensely called to do. Getting the acceptance letter was a moment of great peace. Something clicked into place inside of me – thunk.

This is where I’m meant to be.

This is the path I’m meant to be on.

No doubt, nothing. Just…knowing.

On the other hand, I have no idea exactly how I’m meant to pull this off. People keep asking me and it’s making me nervous.

I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep throwing things at the wall, see what sticks. Keep remembering that I have a gift to share, and I need to share it.

If you’d like to join in the adventure and feel called to contribute, there are 2 ways to do this:

1. Join Sketches from the Road. I ran this last year and it was so much fun – this time, it’ll be 18 months of art, travel, food, adventure and a generous dose of silliness, for the suggested contribution price of $20.

Sign up for Sketches from the Road now!

2. Get yourself some artwork! I have pieces available from $75 up to $1000. Fall in love, take it home, have a constant reminder of just how much space there is for your soul and your dreams. It’s a story that always has a happy ending.

Buy yourself and your walls something beautiful!

I will also accept pom pom shaking and general cheering and joy-wishing.

And thank you for all of your support in just getting this far. You guys are the greatest.

Everyone talks a lot about the gift economy – you’ve gotta give, give, give to your clients and audience. It’s about appreciating and respecting that they’re paying attention, listening and giving you their time.

I don’t doubt this wisdom in the slightest. I agree that it’s key.

Where I get stuck is how I, as a visual artist, can participate. Do I give work away for free? (I did for a while.) Do I offer free downloads of my work? (I tried that too, and my people didn’t really take to it.)

So I’m opening this up to discussion: how do visual artists (and other creatives who make things that aren’t educational or “useful”) participate in the gift economy? How do we give back to our people, our fans, our collectors? How do we do really cool things for others?

Artists & Creatives: Have you found a way that works for you? Do you struggle with this as well?  I want to hear your thoughts!

Marketers: If there are any marketers and biz savvy peeps out there who want to chime in on this, I would love to hear what you suggest for artists!

Art Lovers & Buyers: What do you want to see? What would you like? Biz coaches offer free reports & 10 step processes, but what’s the equivalent for an artist?

I’m really curious to see what people have to say, so don’t be shy!

I learned a valuable lesson this week, the kind of lesson you can only learn the hard way.

Yesterday, I spoke about my experience with a gallery owner who was unhappy with the work I brought her because it wasn’t summery enough. Unfortunately, she couldn’t articulate that, and instead dismissed all of my work as grim, dark and depressing. I liked it, but felt ashamed for producing work that made someone react so violently. I never meant to upset anyone.

So my work came home with me. One piece was refinished, and I shared another piece yesterday.

But there was one piece that wasn’t so lucky.

It was a painting titled “The Coming Storm.” It was the darkest piece that I’d brought, with deep green-blue waves and gathering clouds.

But I’d never quite gotten the composition right. There was a chink of doubt. The gallery owner’s words widened the chink into a gap, and soon, an insurmountable chasm.

I took off the varnish, tried to scrape off the paint. I tried to sand it down, and then paint it again. I couldn’t find peace with it. I was in love with the waves of the sea, but the sky eluded me.

On Monday, the canvas gave up – there were too many layers of paint and sanding and it had sunken in* beyond help. It wouldn’t take another drop of paint.

*Sunken in: the process wherein the oil in oil paint sinks to the bottom, leaving the top layers matt and flat, as opposed to glossy and rich. Usually just needs some varnish.

I had to say goodbye.

I took it out of the frame, and put it in the opposite corner of the room to dry. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it yet. For now, it remains as a reminder:

LISTEN TO MY GUT.

When my gut said, “Good enough”, I should have listened. Not every painting will be a masterpiece. That’s not my job – my job is to do my best and create work from the heart.

People loved that painting. Unfortunately, I let one summer-lover’s words get under my skin and now it’s gone forever. I may tackle the subject matter again, but it won’t be the same.

I should have taken the gallery owner’s aversion as a sign that I was heading in the right direction – if she hated it so much, then that means someone else is going to adore it. Taste varies. For every extreme reaction, there will be an opposite and equal one. One woman’s junk is another woman’s treasure, as they say.

Eighteen months later (and wiser), I can see things more clearly. At the time, with my first “real” gallery interested in my work, I was too emotionally invested to see clearly. I wanted to sell, to be liked, to be successful. I didn’t want to be the artist who painted “dark, grim, horrible things.”

I’m not angry with myself. I was just doing my best to cope with a new and unforeseen situation.

And now I just whisper to myself:

Never again. Never. Again.

RIP, The Coming Storm

The Coming Storm © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2010. Oil on canvas, 16"x20"

Over 18 months ago, I took 6 paintings in to my gallerist. She sent 4 of them back with them, declaring them unfit to be seen, and most definitely unfit to be sold.

I was devastated. I was proud of the work, and couldn’t understand why she’d been so upset. She’d hated them.

In a way, I’m grateful – it spurred me on to bigger and better things. It was what made me apply to study in France this year. I knew there had to be more than tourist galleries in my small town.

But those 4 pieces came home with me to become the black sheep of my body of work. They didn’t go on the site. I stripped the varnish from them, determined to “fix” them.

One, I fixed and it now hangs over my bed. It was the first one to be included on the site again earlier this year. The other 3 were abandoned.

That is, until last week, when I decided that it was time to give these pieces the love and attention they deserved.

It’s taken over a year for me to realize that there was nothing wrong with these pieces except they weren’t summery enough for the gallery owner’s taste – she loved summer and abhors every other season. My paintings were of the autumn. Oops.

There was one painting in particular that she was especially dismissive of, pointing at it and asking me how I could even paint something that dark, grim and horrible.

That was the piece I decided to tackle first. But as I sat pondering it, I realized there was little I truly wanted to change. I slightly adjusted the composition, used my mad new colour theory skillz to tweak the colours and popped up the brights to create a little more contrast.

That was it. I did maybe 2 hours work, tops. I was happy with it, and that’s all that mattered.

So I’m happy to announce that this pretty little thing is now up for sale on the site! (It’s actually not that little, being a 16”x20” canvas with a gorrrrgeous frame around it.)

Landscape in Blue & Gold © Sarah Marie Lacy, 2011 - 16"x20" oil on canvas, framed. $800

If you want to take this darling home with you, then click here to go to the sales page. (Ask me about payment plans! No really, ask me!)

Tomorrow, tune in to find out what happened to the painting that got away…

(And happy Thanksgiving to my American friends! I am definitely grateful for your support and love! I’ll be eating stuffing and roast potatoes in your honour tonight.)

Today while painting, Jesse got out the camera and shot some photos of me working. I thought I’d share them with you!

The place where the magic happens! (My cozy little creative cave.)

Paint, brushes, a glass of water. I’m ready to go.

Apparently, I’m thinking really hard.

Thinking even harder now…

Grooving to the music.

My “this isn’t going quite as well as I thought it would” face.

This is my most dangerous painting position. No, really. Occasionally, paint has been known to end up on the end of my brush. And then in my mouth. Which isn’t so great when you’re painting with toxic cadmiums. Oops. I’m trying to break the habit, I swear it! (I do this with pencils too. Yes, I’m a pencil chewer.)

Clean up time! Scraping off my palette and cleaning off my brushes.

I just realized that as I was wiping off the last remnants of paint, I’d dragged the rag through the white paint and was making a rather large mess. Heh.

Every artist worth their salt wears giant fuzzy booties while they paint. Of course.

Et voila! The finished piece – Eye Study, 2 hours, oil on canvas board.

I have a plan! A big, exciting, terrifying, mind-boggling plan.

It’s my 2 year plan, in fact.

I’m going back to France.

But this time, I’m selling all my furniture, giving up my apartment and bringing my boyfriend with me. For the next 2 years, we’ll be splitting our time between Canada and France, while I continue to study at Studio Escalier. (As long as they’ll have me, that is!)

As I wrote before, my six months in France were life changing, and for once, in a positive way. I learned and grew so much, and I know that there’s still a treasure trove of goodness waiting for me there.

So while on the one hand, I’m terrified – this is a huge undertaking – I’m also incredibly excited. I’m learning all of the things I never thought I’d be able to learn. I’m finally starting to make the art that I’ve always dreamed of and I know it’s only going to get better. It makes me quite giddy.

And it’s not like France is some horrible place to live either, so that’s a bonus. (Oh, the croissants. The croissants. But the jello’d meat I can leave.)

And this time, I get to bring Jesse, which means it will be even more awesome. Because I know he’s brave enough to try the jello’d meat. I could never quite bring myself to do it.

It’s a dream come true.

I’ve always wanted to travel, and live in Europe, ever since I was a kid and realized that was a thing you could do with your life. I’ve always wanted to understand what the Old Masters understood.

And now I get all of that in one shiny package.

I am a happy Sarah.

What happens next

My next step is to start planning how to bring this show on the road: systems, organization, hiring Jesse to respond to emails while I’m in class, figuring out how to keep selling art while I’m on the road. Not super complicated stuff, just logistical things. I want to run a smoother, more prepared and organized business than I do now.

I won’t lie and say I’m not terrified and overwhelmed. I totally have moments where I just pull my blanket up over my head and hide for a while. I mean, the financial logistics alone are scary enough to give me a heart attack.

But I also feel like this is exactly what I’m meant to be doing right now. So I’ll keep moving forward, one itty-bitty step at time.

Until one day, I’ll look down and realize that I’m running.

I’ve restarted this post about a billion times. How do you re-introduce yourself to the world? How do you explain to people how much your life has changed while you were away?

I feel rusty and slightly awkward, with so many things to say and not quite the right words to say them. None of the words seem big enough, drastic enough to tell you all of the ways my time in France was inconceivably brilliant.

It was a dream come true, but on more levels than I’d ever expected.

Twelve year old me wanted to grow up and travel, and see the world. This year, I did that.

But 10 year old me looked at the Old Master paintings and stored them away in her heart, knowing that she wanted to create things like that, but without any hope that she ever could. No one knew how to do those things anymore, right?

And then my teacher gave his first lecture of the summer and my brain exploded. I knew then and there that I was in exactly the right place. I’d found the people who knew what I’d been secretly dreaming of learning my whole life.

My world has been transformed. My art has been transformed. I’ve discovered more bliss, more understanding, more excitement and more challenge in my art than I’d ever dreamed of. I could live 5 lifetimes and still never quite understand. It’s an exhilarating thought.

But most importantly, my experiences this summer transformed me.

I found an inner confidence that I didn’t think I had. For the first time that I can recall, I believe in myself again. I believe in what I have to say, and what I want to paint. I am so full of ideas. I want to explore the whole world with pencil and paintbrush in hand.

So without further ado, this is my final painting from my 6 months in France – it’s not finished, but it wasn’t meant to be. As with everything we made, it was a piece created for learning.

This is just the beginning. I’m going to continue working, studying and learning. And next year, I’m going back to France to do it all over again.

So it’s been an embarrassingly long time since I’ve written here.

I got caught up in preparations to move to France and then once I got here…well, it’s France. I suppose you could say I started functioning on French time.

But I did want to give you a quick taste of the latest painting I made here at Studio Escalier. I think that 2 months of hard work have really paid off, and I still have almost 4 more months to go!

Painting - Week 9

This is just a taste of what the subscribers to Sketches from the Road have been getting since the beginning – along with all of the stories, videos and pictures of my life studying art here in France. And there’s still time to sign up! You can browse the archives and get a new edition delivered every week to your inbox. (Well, mostly every week. Remember, this is France. Time runs differently here.)

It’s only $20 to sign up, it helps me buy groceries and art supplies while here and you get to join in on the fun, which is totally the best part.

Ready to get in on this goodness? Excellent. I’m excited to share my journey with you!

Click the button below to join the adventure.

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Want to send me more than $20 but don’t want to buy any artwork? Rock on. The button below is the one you need.

Love & Croissants!
xoxox

I finally heard from Studio Escalier! I got into the autumn program!

It’s official – almost 6 whole months in France.

I feel like this highly politically incorrect and cliched picture accurately describes how I feel (and also, what I’m going to eat.)

I’m actually just really relieved. I was far more nervous this time around; I think I would have been more disappointed if I hadn’t gotten in the second time than the first time. The first time was a complete shock – this time, where was an expectation set up. I think I would have been slightly embarrassed if they hadn’t accepted me.

I also received the same scholarship as last time! So that knocks a cool $1300 off of my tuition. Woohoo for that!

I’m currently just trusting that the money is going to work itself out. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. I am no longer going to stress about it.

However, if you’d like to contribute, you can do it one of a few ways:

Send me money here & sign up for Sketches from the Road – http://smlacyart.com/fundraising/sketches-from-the-road/

Buy prints (starting at just $30) here – http://smlacyart.com/fundraising/prints/

Buy art (starting at just $50) here – http://smlacyart.com/fundraising/art/

But mostly let’s eat celebratory cake! I’ve already eaten a celebratory cinnamon roll, and you know I’m gonna binge on chocolate eggs this weekend!

Also – I leave in 24 days! OMG.