Good Juju & Gratitude

I believe in lucky pennies.
I believe in synchronicities.
I believe in the law of attraction, magnetism.

I don’t believe in sugarcoating. Being an artist means downswings, rejection, incredulity, and imposter syndrome. I am solely responsible for the successes and failures of my business. I am my boss! (She’s wacky.) Perhaps I have been attracting these negatives. Simultaneously, I continue to create art, I continue to refer to myself as an artist. I continue to believe that there is a glowing light, a wave of patrons in the distance. Nevertheless, I persist.

Yesterday, I worked a shift in our new local arts collective. The collective represents about 30 local artists. It’s a wonderfully eclectic assortment of talent! Recently I’ve taken up journaling again and enjoy doing so during the quiet lulls in the gallery. *No sugarcoating here*, my despondency was the prominent motif. Yes, motif. I like to doodle, too. The least I can do is to make something unpleasant… easy on the eyes. It’s tough feeling glum about one’s own art while watching others’ sell and walk out the door. I sold four plant hangers by Amy Smith, a fabulous stained glass artist. Don’t get me wrong, it brings me joy to sell any artist’s work and I root for them all day, “but”, I’m whispering to myself…. “I also have plant decor” - mosaic mushrooms on stakes. (I wonder, am I being egotistical? Something I constantly seek to excise, oftentimes at my own demise.) I found myself journaling, down on myself, my lack of salesmanship in regards to my own work. But, “oh!”, I also don’t believe in pushing sales. (Have you realized that I really need to journal, yet??) If you connect with my work, fabulous! If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ve never felt the need to speak FOR my art. My family believes otherwise, but I’ll leave them to it. ;]

Anyway… another shift passes with just a few small sales of my own, notecards, magnets. As I’ve packed my things up, belongings among my shoulders, I notice a woman connecting with one of my large pieces, a yak named ‘City Dweller’. I put my things down and struck up a conversation. Her name was Jayne and one of the sweetest people I’ve met. She was beautiful in her joyousness. One of the reasons that I don’t believe in pushing a sale is that each piece tends to exude a distinct energy, which typically aligns with certain people or, a person. It’s remarkable to watch this happen in real time. It’s like I’ve created something expressly for them, but they just had to find it. Synchronicities.

Jayne bought the piece! She was brimming with happiness, as was I. We shared a hug and took a few photos. Big, bright smiles abounded. The universe had sent me just what I needed, when I needed. Call it attraction. Call in magnetism. Call it coincidence. As for myself, I call it magic. It is in the unseen that which shapes a person, an artist. These unseen happenings are why I’m here on Substack. I wish I could bottle these feelings up and send them along with each piece and its person. No doubt, making a big sale is about the bread, but it is so much more. It is belief in oneself, it is the dwindling of dreariness, it is mojo returning.

My gratitude flourishes.