I cared a lot more about going viral when I was in my 20s. I wanted to post that perfect photo, the perfect poem, the perfect Tweet. Even here on WordPress I was so invested in trying to get shared on Freshly Pressed that I had multiple blogs and would post to each of them every single day. Honestly, I don’t know how I did it. These days I can hardly post two blogs a month.
When I got into my 30s, life became less about “being a famous author” and more about being a decent human being. An authentic, decent human being. I think raising a daughter as strong-willed and stubborn as I am has knocked me down a few pegs. Motherhood has taught me that there are more important things than making it big.
My festive mood started before Halloween this year, which is weird for me because Halloween has always been my favorite. I usually go all out with the spooky decor in my front yard and the well-planned costumes. But this year I was ready for that cozy, glittery, festive time in which I could eat comfort foods, decorate cookies, and snooze by the blazing fireplace. Needless to say, when the jack-o-lanterns came down I was setting up my Christmas village and buying fire logs.
Inktober has always been a fun time for us artists. I’ve loved picking and choosing my own prompts from Jake Parker’s list and combining them with prompts from other artist lists. But there isn’t one designed for intuitive art–at least not one that I’ve seen. So last year I started Intuitober.
What is Intuitober?
Intuitober is just like Inktober, only instead of prompts to inspire illustrations, these prompts are designed to be more sensory, emotion-based, and/or vague enough to have multiple interpretations. This makes it easier to work intuitively/subconsciously. Last year the prompt list for Intuitober was short, with only six scribble-evoking words to use throughout the month. But this year I’ve made prompts for the entire month of October. Not only that, but I’ve gone beyond the sensory-provoking words and have also added songs and poems to inspire your daily scribble.
And, of course, because it is the spooky season, each prompt has a element of eerie.
I get it. You had an unsuccessful event, or an unsuccessful class, or zero luck in sales for over a month and now you’re wondering if it’s time to dust off the LinkedIn profile in order to help pay the bills. You’re wondering why you don’t just get a “real job.” You’re wondering where you went wrong.
First of all, you’re not a “bum” so stop calling yourself that. Lazy people don’t run their own businesses. You’re just an artist who hit her wan in the natural order of things.
Right now I’m in the wax moment of this natural order. My creativity is sky high, and classes have never been better. I just sold FOUR PAINTINGS at the solo show in Columbia and I’m excited to see if any more sell in the coming weeks. Two weeks from now you will be at the St. Louis Art in the Park, something that, two years ago, was a far-fetched dream written down in your journal. And from this weekend until November, you are booked solid with events.
I’m not telling you this to rub it in your face. I’m telling you this to prove that you are successful. A bad event or a small pause in sales does not equal failure. It’s normal. Part of being an artist is recognizing that.
I can almost hear your thoughts right now as you enter this five-hundredth existential crisis. You’re wondering if you should just switch over to photography full time or go back to illustration because “back when you did that everyone seemed to like it.” I’m here to tell you NO. You’ve gone through this cycle a billion times and you always wind up right where I am today: back doing scribbles and teaching intuitive art and re-normalizing the website from the discombobulated mess we made when we decided to go ahead and try those different paths.
Those paths have dead ends. They aren’t your career path. They are passions of yours, sure, and very fun at times. But that doesn’t mean you have to monetize them. Why can’t they just be passions? Because you’re good at them? You’re good at gluten-free baking, too, is it time to open your own bakery? No?
This is not the time to be making any rash decisions. It’s actually the time to take a break.
Take a week or two (or longer) to do things that are completely unrelated to art. Take the dog on hikes, play video games with the kiddo, go for a jog. TURN OFF THE PODCASTS and DELETE PINTEREST until you get back into your groove. Get back into learning French on Duolingo. Take naps. Find a new show to binge-watch. Clean. Your. House. Anything to get you out of your own head.
Most of all I want you to remember your why.
Today my mindset is this: I want the world to know more about the power of scribbling and what it can do for your mental health. I want to create art that touches others souls and gives them something to ponder over for years as it hangs on their wall. I want my work to hang in a museum and promote the joy of going back to that childlike mentality of process over product. I want to inspire others to know more about themselves, to meditate with a crayon, to keep their own wordless diary.
And right now your bio at your solo show says the following: I’m a big advocate for the whole “l’art pour l’art” mentality, or “art for art’s sake.” Creating art simply for the process of creating it, to enjoy the feel of the pen or brush or Apple pencil, brings forth a different kind of honesty I’m not able to express with words. Intuitive art has given me the opportunity to learn more about myself and where I fit in with the rest of the world. For me, each piece comes down to one question: what am I feeling right now? I ask this question to determine what medium to use, what colors, even what music to listen to while I work. This can lead to a variety of different pieces, each of them a window into my deepest identity.
I hope you will take these words into account and take my (your own) advice. You’d be doing yourself, and your art, a disservice if you don’t. Don’t forget the Tao philosophy, the yin-yang, that the night will soon turn to day, the ocean wave will gush back, that the roots will curl into a sprout. Find the lesson(s) in your current Yin phase so that you’ll be stronger when you get back to the Yang.
This is merely the belly of the whale, and the character always emerges from that, and always emerges evolved.
My solo show, which I’ve been calling “Hidden Feelings” has officially been hung at Central Bank of Boone County in Columbia, Missouri USA. If you live around the area, or happen to be passing through, I’d love it if you stopped by to check it out.
For those of you who are not in the area, and for those of you who would like a deeper understanding of the works hanging on the wall, I’ve put together this list of each piece and what inspired its creation.
I get a lot of questions about intuitive art, both online and in the classroom. Most of the time I have a prompt response that satisfies the question. Other times I give a half-hearted response because I need to think over it some more. Intuitive art is weird like that. Some days I have it figured out and the next day I have no idea what any of it means.
Now that I’ve had some time to think them through I figured I’d come on here and answer a few of these questions that I didn’t quite have the answer for at the time. I also have a few extra questions in there that were easier to respond to, but I felt deserved to be shared with you here.
There was a quote I heard several years ago on a podcast. I no longer remember the podcast or the host name/interviewee name (nor can I find it online—sorry) but the quote was “Paint what makes your heart hurt.”
Immediately after hearing the phrase I went to Pinterest to make a board of things that make my heart hurt. Rainy days, clothes on a windy line, quiet candlelight, crunchy autumn leaves…
But I realize today that those moments of heart-hurting are fleeting. I’m like a helium balloon, floating from one moment to the next, never able to hold onto certain emotions for long. I need something to anchor me down to that feeling, keep me immersed in the water for a bit, so to speak.
I have been in full experiment mode lately. What this means is I have been trying a ton of new things, filling sketchbooks with “let me see what this does” adventures, and scribbling without an end game. It sounds fun, but this isn’t always welcomed by my conscious thoughts. Mostly because when I’m experimenting my work is all over the place, and I start asking myself a ton of questions like…
What kind of artist am I?
Is this the kind of artist I want to be?
Would this even hang in a gallery?
Is my style shifting?
Do I even have a style?
Can I call myself a professional? Or am I just a hobbyist splashing around? A hobbyist who needs to get a real job..
The year started quietly for me, like the morning after a good snowfall. Muffled. Dormant. I was a hibernating bear.
Needless to say it took a few days to get back into the groove of creating. My goal was simple for the month: form a gouache habit so that I could start—and successfully complete—a 100 days project.
That project starts January 30th.
But the new year, as I’ve said before, isn’t a cure-all. Looking behind me, beyond that dividing line between 2022 and 2023, my art had been lacking in something, and still was. I felt free in scribbling, as usual, but there was just something…hollow about it all. Maybe I’d just fallen into a routine of “sameness” and my work had become less about expression and more about muscle memory.
However, after the process of forming this daily gouache habit began, I came to my first conclusion: my world didn’t have enough color.
In the past I’ve always kept my tones a bit desaturated so that they would appear more natural, organic, and sophisticated. Which is interesting to me because if I were to describe my personality it would be the exact opposite. Loud, vibrant, and playful. A bit much at times.
But just working with vibrant colors wasn’t enough. While my studies gave me a buzzy feeling, my larger works were still lacking in something, despite their newfound vibrancy. After a week or so of discovering new artists, creating vision boards, and self-exploration I came to my second conclusion: the loud colors were coming across, but the playful aspect was not.
So I turned a geometrical “almost perfect” painting into a wild scribble of personal reflection, inspire by the feeling I’d gotten after seeing the crescent moon at the blue hour of a recent morning. I called the initial, geometrical version “dishonest” on Twitter, and when asked why I thought it was dishonest, I responded:
…art is play, scribbly, and a dance. I shouldn’t edit over the dance.
In other words, painting the scribble and transforming it into this geometrical, neat and orderly piece was like telling a great lie. And not only was I lying to my audience, but I was lying to myself.
BeforeAfter
I am not clean, orderly, or neat. I am a big scribbly mess of energy and I tend to run eople away before I can make friends with them because I’m just a bit….much. When my art is also a bit…much…my covering it up is almost like trying to hide my identity.
Intuitive art is not about hiding your identity.
Art, in general, is not about hiding your identity.
So I went back to the very root of why I create art in the first place: it’s fun. I like smearing paint on a canvas while dancing to Aurora and Harry Styles, so that was a good start. Art went back to being more about the process and less about the final result.
But it’s not always rainbows and butterflies and play. While January has apparently been a good month so far, by the looks of my scribbles, my work is not always fueled by joy and playfulness. Sometimes I’m in a shit mood and can only think about mass shootings and the dying planet. In the past I’ve often kept those negatively-fueled pieces to myself. But that, again, is another lie. Life is up and down and turned around and upside down and nonsense. So keep an eye out for the grumpy art too.
Processed with VSCO with presetProcessed with VSCO with preset
My newest scribbles are making their way onto my shop as they’re finished. Click here if you’d like to take a look. If you have any questions you can email me lina@linaforrester.com
Until next time, may your scribbles be scribbly and your identity be un-masked.
The Lina of the past wrote in the beginning of her 2022 Passion Planner that she wanted to “establish herself as an intuitive artist” by May. She also wrote that she wanted to finally start showing in Columbia, show in St. Louis, have a large-scale series, and to move to a new house with a studio space (with lots of natural lighting). While not all of those things happened this year, I can say, as Present Lina, that I had a pretty decent 2022.
But it wasn’t without its mishaps, trials and failures, and good old fashioned life. There was no way we could have predicted the massive inflation here in the U.S., the drunk moron who would total our second car in June, or the death of our beloved Canary, Apple. We, as a family, also caught Covid a week before our vacation, something we had tried so hard to prevent with vaccines, masks, and hand-sanitizer. Is it time to quote John Lennon here? I think it is:
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
That might actually be my biggest takeaway from the year 2022, that no matter how well-planned you are, Murphy is still right around the corner, waiting to throw you a curve ball that will send you down a completely different path. 2022 added new therapists, med regimes, and a second car payment. If I could change anything, it would be only to bring Apple back, so I can hear him sing during the sunrise, and while watching musicals on TV.
I think it’s important for all of us to take a moment to reflect on this past year. What popped up that was out of your control? What did you accomplish and what did you mess up? Did you learn any important lessons? How are you different today than you were on January 1st? Doing this kind of reflection is a great way to prep you for the impending 2023.
Here’s mine:
Successes of 2022
Art in the Park: This was an event I had been getting accepted to since 2020 but due to the pandemic was unable to participate as it was canceled each year since. Except this year! I finally got to see what it was like to be a part of a huge, multiple-day art festival. Not only that, but it was a big eye-opener as to what the public is drawn to and how to give my booth a more “professional” look for next year’s event. I even gained some networking points and am now part of the 1st Fridays in Columbia.
Columbia Art League: This is one of the art galleries in Columbia, and the one I had been wanting to submit to for so long but could never work myself up to it. This year I decided that since I was going to be a part of Art in the Park, that a membership to this gallery was a must, and I have since been a part of several of their exhibitions and have even made a few sales and won an honorable mention ribbon.
The Eccentric Chai Podcast: Perhaps my biggest success of the year is my podcast, Eccentric Chai. I had been tossing around the idea of starting a podcast since 2020, but it wasn’t until this year that I finally decided to go for it, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought! Just like everything else, it’s a learn-as-you-go process. With the podcast I had to learn how to use Audacity, how to get my podcast on multiple platforms, and how to prevent myself from spending the entire week working on one episode. I have big plans for the podcast in the year 2023 and I’m excited to get started.
This painting was a fail for me, but that’s common with intuitive art.
Mishaps
I don’t want to call these “failures” because technically you never “fail” at something unless you give up entirely. These things are more mishaps, and so that’s what I’m calling them.
Doubting Myself and My Art: This isn’t necessarily a preventable mishap, as this is practically in the job description of an artist. At some point we will doubt ourselves, our art, our “brand”, our “style”, and everything in between. We will worry that we aren’t contributing enough to our family when we don’t sell enough. We will worry that we are spending too many events “working” and not enough events just spending time with our families. We will get overwhelmed with FOMO and Impostor Syndrome and existential crises and all those other fun issues we deal with as creatives. But it’s important to not let these issues bog us down, rather remind us why we chose this career path in the first place. Why do you do what you do? I’ve only just recently figured this out and it’s the end of the year. So don’t beat yourself up if you’re still confused.
Patreon: I don’t know why I keep trying with Patreon (I suppose I should read above), but I gave it another go this year and it has still barely gained any momentum. My hope is to better my marketing skills in 2023 so that I can get more patrons. A steady paycheck is very important to this career, and Patreon is one of the only places—other than teaching—that I have found to give me that option.
Marketing: Which brings me to marketing. This is yet another learn-as-you-go process. You find what works and what doesn’t. As Andy J. Pizza would say, you have to “write while onstage.” But my issue is that I didn’t add any further research to my marketing tool bag. I need to focus on my professional development in 2023, read a few books on business and maybe even take a class. The better I am at marketing, the better I will be able to prevent the previous two mishaps.
Lessons Learned
There’s too many to write about, so here’s a list:
How to better set up my booth at events
How to make flyers and brochures for marketing
How to host a podcast
Consistency is KEY
When you finish a painting, FOLLOW THROUGH. Scan it, post it on your shop, frame it, don’t just toss it in your portfolio and move on.
Take a break (the world won’t end, and neither will your career)
Your best moments in this career will not be monetary. Instead they will be the time your student called your intuitive art class, “finger painting for grow-ups,” the time a mother cried because her son was so passionate about art camp, and that evening you taught intuitive art to cancer survivors.
To-do lists will change your life
Goals for 2023
I’ve already mentioned a few, but let’s get specific.
Podcast Interviews: I have always loved listening to artist interviews on other podcasts, and have wanted to do the same on my own podcast. 2023 will be the year I finally start interviewing other artists.
50 Patrons: It’s not a huge number, but it’s a specific one, and specific goals are always much more obtainable than general ones. Once I add those marketing skills to my tool bag, my goal is to get this number before the end of 2023.
Watercolor Classes: I have given them in the past, but now I want to give them weekly. Because of the lesson I learned that “consistency is key,” I know that weekly classes, held on the same day at the same time, are far more successful than the occasional, sporadic classes. I also want to start doing my intuitive art classes weekly as well.
Work Larger: This was a goal for 2022, and while I did work larger, I didn’t finish anything large. But I have some new ideas and I can’t wait to get started on some big surfaces. It will be one step closer to my career goal of painting a mural in the city.
2022 had its flaws, as does any year, but damn it was a good one (and busy). The amount of events I did in 2021? Two or three. The amount of events I did in 2022? Over FIFTEEN (and I still have two more scheduled this month)! I exhibited in new places, taught kids’ camps, won 1st place in the Chalk Art competition, and became a part of the Art Heals project here in Jefferson City. My family and I went to St. Louis to see the Van Gogh exhibit (Goo said it was one of the best days of her life), traveled to Cedar Point (on a plane!) and rode a busy subway to downtown Chicago.
Don’t get me wrong, we had our shit days. We struggled with the inflation and gas prices. We had to watch what was happening in the world on the news and feel completely powerless. We buried Apple beneath a tree on a cold January day.
But my hope is that I can take these moments and put them in the “I lived through it” file. I don’t want to dwell on them, but I don’t want to forget them. And I want to give the fun stuff more focus. A lot of times we only remember the bad stuff, but it’s the bad stuff that makes the good stuff good. Right? That might be the biggest takeaway from the year.
My 2023 New Year’s Resolution is to pay more attention to the good stuff, the good memories, the good feelings, the fun days with the family. To not let them be overpowered by the bad stuff, but rather enhanced by it.
Until next year, may your Holiday food be hot and filling, and you and your families be happy and healthy. See you in 2023!
Scribble Chai 