Wrenches in Things
This post and sentiment is a different one for me. I'm not so sure about this being the right time to share either. My hope is to offer hope.
Since last summer, I've been trying to figure out how to offer painting instruction online ... and to find different ways of connecting with collectors if that became necessary. Here's why I thought it might be. (No. I didn't see a pandemic coming.)
The Wrench
At the Rittenhouse Square Art Show (a three day outdoor art festival) in early June in Philadelphia, all of a sudden my knuckles swelled and hurt (like crazy). Then toes, knees, wrists, elbows, neck ... you name it. On top of the hurt, I was tired to the bone, depleted. Luckily husband Randy was there allowing me to arrive late to my booth each day and do much less physically than an outdoor art show requires. Obviously my body was telling (screaming) something to me.
Once back home, my primary doctor suspected it was Rheumatoid Arthritis, put me on prednisone and told me to go see a rheumatologist. 
The last directive was easier said than done. It took until August to get an appointment with a specialist (not an easy process) who confirmed the diagnosis as a progressive and aggressive form of rheumatoid arthritis. It needed to be treated ... aggressively ... or I'd be in big trouble. (Those weren't his words precisely but it was his implication.) I could clearly tell that whatever direction this was heading wasn't a good one unless help arrived. Pain, sleeplessness, exhaustion, a ton of days not getting out of bed, not being able to paint at all or at max an hour before needing rest ... I no longer resembled me.
My life as an artist has run for a long time with extended, very full days trying to stuff 100 lbs. into a 10-lb. bag. I travel a lot. I participate in plein air events that are intense (and wonderful). Meet new and faithful collectors at fine art festivals like the one at Rittenhouse where you pack up paintings, put up a booth and hang the art with care and engage all day. For years, I've also taught three classes a week during spring, fall and winter sessions. My main job, though, is painting. No matter how easygoing Bob Ross made it look (I watched one of his episodes recently ... I think for the first time), painting is physically and mentally demanding. I love all of these different aspects of my "job." It's been hard work but rewarding, fulfilling and fun.
On some dark days with arthritis raging, I remember lying in bed thinking what if this doesn't get better? What if I can't paint? What if ... the list went on ... but nothing was quite as important as what if I can't paint. These thoughts ... from an eternal optimist. Uh-oh.
It felt like my beautiful world might fall apart.
It didn't. That summer I painted less frequently but oh how thankful any time at my easel made me. On that first visit to my rheumatologist in August, I handed him a brochure about my art. (A little weird ... I wasn't trying to sell him my art but instead sell him on how important my hands and being able to function were to me.) I picked the right doctor. (Dr. Phillip Kempf - Arlington VA) He's smart, knowledgeable and best of all, made me feel a whole lot better. Gradually, my optimism grew back.
There are ups and downs. Medications come with their own risks. The RA drugs suppress your immune system making you more susceptible to infections and as the warnings go, if you do get an infection, it may be more severe. Yep. I can vouch for that. A cold led to a sinus and ear infection and burst eardrum at the end of December. That infection caused about a month of what could have been perfectly wonderful painting time.
Those tough days did make me worry about securing future income as art sales and teaching income are what support the household. Before RA came knocking, probably naively, earnings were not a concern since I relied on my do-whatever-it-takes attitude to make more than enough happen. It struck me that it also might be a good idea to have a Plan B to help supplement Plan A. (We are savers with a nice cushion plus sales have been plentiful. What might need to be adapted was how that income is generated.)
Hmmmm ... What's Plan B?
I love to teach painting (not as much as I love painting, but close). One of the most appealing ideas for how to generate consistent income for the times when I'm not physically up to painting or teaching live or talking to collectors at events is to build online recorded (vs. live) classes/instruction that can be purchased throughout the year. I'm somewhere in the process of building that. You cannot buy my instructional videos because they don't exist yet. But, the puzzle pieces are coming together and wheels are turning. When I haven't felt well enough to paint, I've purchased and watched tons of video lessons to cull what works and doesn't. I've watched LOTS of webinars on how to develop online courseware. Researched equipment, software, platforms, how the product could be promoted and sold. I've recorded lots of videos while painting or giving demos. Next up is seeing what's usable and tackling editing for the first time. It will be plenty of trial and error. In all that video lesson watching, the more natural, less structured painting demos with low tech editing were my favorites. They felt like painting - zenlike - because that's what the artists were doing vs. putting on a show. Whatever results from my efforts is unlikely to be a best seller and who knows if it will generate any income to take care of that original goal. If I don't create it, though, it definitely won't.
What I will bet on is that those videos-to-be are going to convey a love of painting and as much knowledge and inspiration sharing I can pack into them. If I make those, maybe others will follow to replace or supplement the book I didn't write on my "100 Faces in 100 Days" Project. I keep making art ... the basis on my Plan A.
"Great, Great"
Today I feel pretty darn great. This staying at home time means way fewer germs than normal floating around. Medicines (right now prednisone and Rinvoq) are working. I am extraordinarily thankful for everything that doesn't hurt. I love that climbing or descending the stairs isn't something to plan for. I love that today is full of possibilities.
Despite the ups and downs arriving with this new un-welcomed RA challenge, what incredible blessings occur every day. I carried on, a little more gingerly and way less Energizer Bunny-like, at Telluride Plein Air, many outdoor fine art festivals (Wickford RI, Shadyside in Pittsburgh, Northern Virginia - Reston, King Street Art Festival in Alexandria VA, Bethesda Row in MD, and McLean ArtFest), and three more plein air competitions (Falls Church Plein Air - winning 1st Place and Paint Great Falls - 2nd Place and People's Choice). Randy and I had the most amazing trip to the South of France - Cote d'Azur and Provence - in the summer. Many beautiful paintings came from our time there but I didn't push myself, found places to sit to paint, and balanced driving around, reading the guidebooks, sitting at cafes with time at the easel. The joy of being there was overwhelming in the best of ways. A big worry was anticipating the start of classes in the fall of last year. If they had been a week earlier, I'm not sure what would have happened. By the end of that session, those medications started to make life easier along with making my face and body rounder and rounder. In December, we took a week long healing break in Key West where I slept a lot, watched those teaching videos and put in only as many painting hours as seemed comfortable. (That's me ... roughing it in Key West ... with "Beauty and the Beach" in progress.)
Beauty and the Beach, oil on linen-lined panel, 20" x 16" - I so loved this beautiful day. (Available) Even though I'm not painting as much, my work keeps improving. There's even more emotion in it. Love, gratitude, awe in the beauty of life.
I'm doing well, mentally (most of the time) and physically. I sure hope you are too. I am in good shape to face all that fun, challenging, hard work routine that occupied those years prior to RA thanks to a good doctor and effective medications. Neat opportunities are/were plentiful with shows, and plein air events.
And Along Comes a Virus
Hmmm again.
Cancellations, Postponements and Classes
I was accepted into Knoxville's Artists on Location plein air competition originally slated for April now pushed into September. Accepted into the Northern Virginia Fine Arts Festival (moved from May to September). Accepted into Mountain Maryland Plein Air (big yay! but we'll see if it goes). Accepted into the June Rittenhouse Square Show that's also up in the air. Just like all of you, all that good stuff on the calendar evaporated. The joy of being with other people will have to wait or be found another way. Creativity is definitely required to continue those real, personal conversations with collectors. I'm working on that.
Up until now, my classes have always been in person, live sessions were I could help a student along by pointing to an area or picking up a paintbrush or looking at their palettes. Shutdown. With my spring offerings pretty full, I've been working with fellow teachers and the Executive Director of the Arts of Great Falls School to salvage this quarter's much-needed tuitions by figuring out a way to teach effectively live online. Lots of that earlier studying, research and watching gave me a base of knowledge to work with. The shutdown brought an outpouring of people coming together - throughout the country - to offer tips and brainstorm. It's heartwarming to see and incredibly helpful.
In a little over a week -- two of my classes will be taught online -- live using Zoom meetings. With the help of one of my neat students and lots of pow-wows with fellow teachers and Julie, I know how to visit, guide and teach on a personal level at the easel via distance learning. Students will still experience the comraderie and fun of being together. I'll be pulling together extra tools and more of a curriculum plus pieces and parts in a more organized way -- also making and using some very low tech videos to teach studio practice along the way. All of this will help with my goal of developing that prerecorded online courseware plus highlight where there might be gaps that need filling.
There are a couple spots open in case you'd like to join us. Get more info here.
My arthritis trauma taught me there's a light at the end of the tunnel. There will be with this one too.
Farm Market Flowers, oil on linen-lined panel, 16" x 12" - painted in my Rittenhouse Square booth in September three months after my first RA whammo. Look at all that joy and hope. (Available)
