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Dear <<First Name>>,
Do you ever get that feeling that you're doing an immense amount of work, but most of it is invisible?
Not every task we set ourselves is fit to be sung of in ballads, yet prosaic tasks remain to be done without which legends falter. Without highways, wither Rome?
When I'm making art, it's easy to share images of the work in progress and maintain a sense of constant forward progress. When I put my hands to steel or stone, I have a visceral feel of every change in the material that brings it closer to embodying my vision.
In fact, the defining character of visual art is that it can be seen, but, in order to put it on view, much machination happens behind the scenes.
It can be discouraging when you can't see the fruits of your labor until long after you've put the time in. But if you want to build a house, you must start with a foundation that will likely be buried. If you want to make wine, you've got to put seeds underground, plant a vineyard, let the vines grow to maturity and even after you harvest and stomp the grapes, you've got to age the wine in casks.
This spring has been that kind of a spring, the sort where I'm planting and cultivating for results that will only be visible long down the seasons. Like spring, the process is muddy and I spin my wheels a lot, digging the absolute wrong kind of trenches. In fact, that metaphor perhaps best sums up my recent past: I am entrenched.
I am engaged in that time honored practice of staring balefully at the blank page.
A long time ago, the firebowls began selling so well over the internet that I slowly stopped participating in the broader art world. First, I stopped doing art fairs. Then I cut back on gallery shows. I took on fewer commissions, and began making fewer one of a kind pieces of art. When I did make new work, I mostly did it for myself and kept it at home rather than exhibiting it. Instead of maintaining the kind of documents I would submit to galleries, I built the CV and Bibliography into my website, because that was where the action was.
What I'd like to be working on is developing proposals to send out to museums. But before I can touch that, I've it's time to re-write the entire narrative of supporting documents— text I haven't had to revisit in a decade or more. The Artist's Bio (long and short version); The Curriculum Vitae and Short Resumé; the Bibliography; the Project Statement; References; Budgets and Proposals. My own personal nightmare.
These documents are what every artist wrestles with throughout their lives and I doubt they come naturally to anyone. They are the core tools you use to advance your career. When you approach any new venue, they're going to ask for your papers and these are the passports and visas that get approved or denied. They may be your golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory, or they may just be an empty candy wrapper. Your art will still be the deciding factor, but without the proper documentation you won't get a foot in the door to show the art.
So when I work on these things, it feels high stakes. And because I've taken a fairly unconventional career path even for an artist, it can be tricky to decide how best to present my accomplishments. For instance, I've done very few exhibitions for quite some time— yet I have over a hundred sales and commissions of art to public and corporate clients and literally thousands to private individuals. It's not like I was resting on my laurels, but my exhibition history looks light of late.
Having decided to veer off in an unexpected direction, I need new maps. The logbook of my travels has to make sense to those I meet in new lands.
As much as this process may seem a chore, it's also a vital chance both to take stock and to look ahead. I tend to live very much in the moment, so I'm always more than a little surprised at how long the CV and bibliography have become. I've done so much less than I meant to that it's nice to be reminded how much I have done. And in looking ahead to where I want to be, where I've been is the heart of the strategy for getting there.
Two recent experiences get to the heart of how you can use the documentation process to inform future strategy.
Writing the Kickstarter page and filming the video
I spent almost a year gathering the materials I needed to launch the fundraiser on Kickstarter. Having the mosaics professionally photographed; deciding the size, format and materials for the prints, ordering samples, writing and re-writing copy, filming the video at different stages of the project… even building a 3D virtual reality version of the finished project to show how it would look hen complete.
Before that, I'd already written about the project on my website. I'd written two different press releases for it (working with the writer who did the great article in Smithsonian). Then I wrote about it for the Kickstarter project page. Each version becomes more refined and hopefully clearer and more enticing. The video documentary was also created with Kickstarter in mind, but will be useful for each stage of the project overall. Each time you come to the keyboard with a different goal in mind it gives you a chance to see the work from another angle.
I Applied for a Creative Capital Grant
I haven't applied for a grant since at least 1999 or 2000. I blame Neil Verplank.
Back when lived in Chicago, I successfully applied for the CAAP grant offered by the city's Department of Cultural Affairs 3 times. The CAAP grant is interesting in that if you do the application right, you're almost guaranteed to get at least a small sum. BUT— it's also the most thorough, complicated, intense application I've ever seen. In effect, it's really a grant writing training program (complete with meetings, workshops, etc.) which teaches you how to answer any question you will ever be asked.
When I left Chicago for Michigan, I was at the real beginning of my career, long on time and short on money. So I took those skills I'd learned and applied for every serious arts grant out there. Of course, the thing is, the good grants are insanely competitive and artists at the beginning of their career really don't have the experience and credentials to stand much chance.
Neil and I were talking at this time and he asked me:
"How much time are you spending on these applications?"
"About 100 hours each, at least," I replied.
"And what are the odds of success?"
"1% or less probably, but certainly better if you take the time to write it well"
"And how much work could you make for sale if you spent 100 hours in the studio? Are the odds of selling it better than 1%?"
And that was the day I started focusing on making and selling things instead of looking for grants. Which was probably for the best at that time. But it was also the beginning of a shift in my focus that prioritized production of successful designs over passion projects.
Creative Capital is quite different from most arts grants. The model is more like a venture capital firm or a start-up incubator. To quote from their website:
"Our pioneering venture philanthropy approach helps artists working in all creative disciplines realize their visions and build sustainable practices. Creative Capital provides each funded project with up to $50,000 in direct funding and career development services valued at $50,000, for a total commitment of up to $100,000 per project."
As much as the $50,000 grant would be helpful. I'm almost more excited about the non-financial support that Creative Capital offers. Resource support from curators, exhibit designers, marketers, business and legal professionals would help immensely in developing the strategy to reach new markets for my work.
I've spent a lot of time the last few years researching what museum show proposals look like. And although there's overlap, it tends to vary from one venue to the next. But getting the basics down in a clear and succinct form is the obvious starting point. The questions asked in round one of Creative Captal's grant application did a really great job of focusing my thinking towards that goal. Most of the answers are limited to 100 words (much unlike the newsletter you're reading) and that really forces precision and clarity.
The chances of being awarded the grant are a little better than 1% this year, but the process of writing a good application is invaluable in itself.
My friend Austin Kleon has a new book out called Keep Going, which is exactly the kind of book I need when faced with tasks like these. Be sure to scroll to the bottom of the newsletter to get a free print from Austin's publisher if you pre-order the book by April 1.
Thank you,
John T. Unger
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Cutting kalo leaves for a pair of custom Firebowls.
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This week I'm finishing up a pair of custom firebowls based on Kalo leaves. The finished bowls will sit on eight foot high pillars of moss rock, flanking the entrance to a pool area. Oddly enough, I can't tell you where they'll be installed because even though it's a resort, it's a military resort, thus subject to restrictions about location. I didn't know there was such a thing.
Each of the two bowls has 12 leaves which I drew using four paper templates of different leaves. I drew 3 of each template from one side of the template, the three more flipping the template to make a mirror image. By cutting just a bit loosely, the leaves all come out very clean and accurate but also very individualized... Ideally, it will look like there are no repeated leaf designs.
Here's an image of the leaves clamped to a bowl. All that's left is to cut away the bits of the bowl that show through the leaves and then weld them on. I'll get that done this weekend.
I like how the leaves on the floor behind the bowl look like turtles or trilobites… I might need to do a custom bowl based on marine fossils. Trilobites, brachiopods, etc.
I'm also somewhat tempted to build some steel jungle plants and paint them bright colors. It might be fun to build an entire steel jungle for the front yard. I've made bottle trees in the past, but have an idea in my head for a bottle palm tree, made with rows of flat green medicine bottles in different sizes to tape the palm leaves.
I guess we'll see if that happens when it gets warm outside again.
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A custom brazier for Easter Vigil.
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The bowl shapes used in this Easter Vigil Brazier are pieces I found in a scrap yard years ago and which aren't standard sizes or shapes— so as much as I like the design, this will remain a one of a kind piece. It's also a classic lesson in a how a very simple design can be a difficult object to make. Getting the cross itself perfectly level and straight is simple enough, but welding both ends to a compound curve and having everything remain level and straight was a real challenge. I'm very pleased that I was able to get it spot-on perfect on every axis. I should have taken photos of the crazy armature I built to hold and adjust it but my phone is always plugged in to the stereo when I work in the metal shop.
It's hard to get a really great photo this time of year, but I've been promised photos from the actual ceremony, so I'll share those (and the name of the church) when I get them. I don't want to risk spoiling the surprise of this gift to the church until after Easter.
This is the twelfth piece I've made for a religious venue. I'm always deeply honored when my artwork is used in a context of faith— it gives the art some depth and purpose beyond being purely decorative. I'm giving some thought to designs for an Easter brazier that I could produce as a regular item.
The Paschal Fire is really quite a lovely ceremony. If you're not familiar with it, there's a good description online here.
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Progress on Anatomy Set in Stone project
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The marble mosaic of Table 33 is all done except for the face.
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I've nearly finished the seventh mosaic in the series— a couple more long nights and I'll be at the half-way point of the project. I'll be installing the sixth and seventh mosaics into their frames soon and will finally be able to really see them and photograph them.
I came up with some really useful new techniques while working on this most recent mosaic. I'll detail those in a Kickstarter update soon.
Anatomy Set in Stone Kickstarter was a success
You won't have to hear about Kickstarter for a while, except to say thank you to everyone who helped it happen. Thirty-three backers pledged $3,141.00 to fund stage two of the anatomy mosaics.
I'll be shipping the rewards in the next week or two. I wanted to wait until I had responses from everyone with their address and choice of art. That took a bit longer than expected.
I now have the steel frames, mortar and grout to finish mosaics Six through Nine. No. Six was already ready for install and No. Seven is days away from being ready. I'll begin No. Eight as soon as they are installed and I have room to work.
I didn't reach the stretch goal for the skeletons, but I bought the frames for them anyway. I may do another Kickstarter later in the year to fund the mortar, grout and background stone for those. I may not. I don't want to exhaust people's generosity.
A few things I learned, this time around—
1. Never, ever, ever launch a fundraising project during the Holidays!
It's not that I didn't know that. I just didn't manage to get all the materials ready until the end of the year and I knew that January through March are historically a really slow period. It was a bit of a Hail Mary play. I apologize for the inconvenient timing.
2. The process may be more valuable than the funding
As discussed in the opening section above, I spent almost a year developing the materials for the Kickstarter.
3. Building new audiences is difficult. (The audience you have is what saves you)
Because the Anatomy Mosaics are so different from my previous work, I've been trying to get them in front of new people. A big part of my delay in launching the fundraiser was trying to reach out to "influencers" in the fields of anatomy and medicine. I felt I'd have a much better chance of success if I get get the work in front of people who were already huge fans of anatomical imagery. That didn't really happen.
In the end, the people who came through were the friends and fans I already had. Thank you.
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In the Press and Studio News
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Chapter Eight of Austin Kleon's new book opens with a quote from me.
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Keep Going, the third book in Austin Kleon's trilogy of advice for artists is out next month. If you order before midnight on April 1, you get a free print of one of Austin's Blackout Poems. He almost never releases prints, so that's kind of a rare opportunity. (BTW, this is NOT an April Fool's joke, despite the date).
I've dedicated much of my time over the years to sharing what I know about making art, making a living with art and living with art and/or artists. I'll probably never write a book about any of those topics because glaciers move faster than I write. So I'm always pleased when some observation or thought of mine winds up quoted in a book that someone else took the time to write. In fact, my entire publishing strategy is making friends with great writers and telling them stories from time to time.
I'm especially proud to be mentioned or quoted in all three of the books in Austin's trilogy. In Steal like An Artist, Austin included me in the Thank You section at the end of the book. In Show Your Work, he included one of my favorite stories I tell about my time as a poet. In Keep Going, one of my quotes appears at the top of Chapter 8.
I didn't write the books, but it makes me feel pretty great to have been able to contribute some small bit to some of the most useful, comprehensive and readable manuals for artists and the creative life.
Keep Going couldn't arrive at a better time, really. I was lucky enough to read a final draft right before it went to press and it's made it a bit easier to deal with all the things the world tends to throw at us these days. Or more accurately, it's made it easier to keep my focus on what I find important and pull my gaze away from what doesn't fuel or enrich me.
Here's how to get the book and the free print:
Step 1: Pre-order the book before midnight on April 1. (EST.)
Step 2: Fill out this form, and follow all the instructions.
Other recent appearances in print:
Jessica Leigh Hester wrote a fantastic piece about the Anatomy Set in Stone project for Atlas Obscura. This may be the best article written about it yet.
Laughing Squid and Designer Daily also rote about the mosaics. I've been wanting an appearance on Laughing Squid for almost 20 years.
The Great Bowl O' Fire makes a couple cameo appearances in this Photo of the Day feature about Fishingham Garden on Fine Gardening Magazine’s website— Embracing Wild Color
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