I redesigned my website and put together a selection of work I am proud to show the world.
And while this seems like putting together a portfolio would be one of the easier aspects of this artist gig, I found it extremely difficult.
Partially, it's the (self-inflicted) pressure:
"This is how the world will be introduced to you. DON'T MESS IT UP," my inner voice criticizes.
Partially, it's because my "style" is so varied.
So much so, that I recently compared it to vegetable soup: Each spoonful looks different but, overall, it "tastes" the same.
And, while most of us love a good veggie soup, it can be a bit discouraging:
Not having "a style" means that's it's harder to explain what you can do. And in this world of the seven second attention span, a difficult explanation is often an unheard explanation.
This conversation happened in the midst of an email discussion with another artist friend and we both spoke about how we admired Lisa Congdon's approach to style, which, having never spoken to her about it personally, seems to be something akin to,
"I make what I make. My creations are therefore 'my style'."
When I "found" Lisa's work she was on a trip to Scandinavia and each day she would post these amazingly detailed sketches of things that she had observed on her travels. She also happens to do some very bold and graphic fine art work but I would say she might be best known for her hand-lettering.
Lisa is the person I think about when I get mired down in "my style is inconsistent - self-doubt - land". (<< This is an actual place in Paige's Art World. Remind me to draw you a map sometime.)
Lisa's work spans the range of detailed and realistic to graphic and bold.
She does her.
You do you.
Do my self-help pep-talks always work? No.
But, after eating all the chocolate ice cream, do they allow me to pick up where I left off and encourage me to continually keep honing and developing my style? Yes.
And, I think, that's all an artist can aspire to.