Multo.com :: Visual Magic

Art, Love & Commerce

DVG Crimson Kiss, M. Ulto 2007 (see full sized version here)

There are times in one’s life when worth is realized. That time comes in a strange side-winding way for artists, whose path is never clear, and most definitely less certain than the path taken by the many. The myths and warnings are a challenge to navigate. I no longer bare my artistic vulnerability with a hope that others will be gentle and respectful of it, cause that’s just patently naive. I have an incredibly well developed shield system that blocks out unwanted energy, with or without my conscious involvement. My subconscious doesn’t always trust my imprudent eagerness to please, so it finds ways to tell me what is a healthy environment or relationship, and what needs to be jettisoned. I’m learning to what to say yes to and what to pass on.

Time has taught me well and my turtle shell is solid. I love the busy silence of my mind in the middle of creating. It is as if I’m standing in the middle of a massive, undefined space, orchestrating a vast array of visual and emotional assets, sorted by sense (sound, smell, taste, etc), and by the chaos factor that arranges all objects in the universe. It is as if I fully understand that language, that ebb and flow of creation, and that gift is the truest form of communication I use.

I’ve been accused of being hard to communicate with. I agree that I choose that stance, more and more, for the preservation of my gifts. I have been dealing with some health issues, so radio silence has become a must at times. And I truly do not trust or like very many people; I have met too many people in the last year who asked, (sometimes demanded), me to do something for them or give them something, (usually for little or no payment). I recognize I myself am a commodity – my talents are plentiful and my creativity is astounding. My work product is incredible in its beauty, polish and speedy generation.

Being successful at my craft is a tricky, because my industry leaves its artists in constant famine until the momentum builds. My career is starting to truly gain that momentum, and the sweetest thing about that is I did ALL myself. Talk about being immensely capable, and there is no need for modesty here. My work speaks for itself, as does my life – self-created, self-educated, self-directed. Fast, furious and fantastic – that pretty much describes my process.

With the momentum comes notice, and with that notice comes the needy, greedy and tacky. The needy not only want time or work, but they want to become you, without all the hard work – they want to exist as a part of you, in your world, so they may take that home somehow, and cuddle up to it, coveting what little they can grab without giving anything back. And when you say no to the needy, they hate you. The needy taught me about boundaries.

The greedy are another bunch, and sometimes you can harness that greed if you don’t get too close to their cyclonic desire for more. The greedy are the entitled needy; they feel as if they somehow are owed my time and talents, even before engaging me in meaningful project work. Often, they will low ball you and then make you regret taking the job as the project scope creeps ever into the crazy making red zone. The greedy taught me to value my work, demand contracts and stay emotionally distant until the creation process is ready to begin.

The tacky are the hardest group to work with – their aesthetic may not be compatible with mine, yet they persist. The tacky don’t know the difference between good or bad art, yet they seem to be convinced their poor arrangement of visuals is much better than mine. Why hire me? If I’m the visual expert, then listen to my direction. The tacky taught me not to fight losing battles; I just can’t work with people whose taste and talents do not meet or exceed mine, or I must be compensated very well to put up with dilettantes and amateurs. And don’t let other people take credit for your work. As an editor, that’s a hard issue, as most times you end up not only editing but re-writing and directing the piece you are hired to work on.

Most of all, I’ve learned that I truly do not need very many other people to do what I do, or to be happy doing it. This used to bother me – I must be overtly social, I must be pleasing and accommodating, I must make other’s happiness more important than my own. To do that was to prove my worth and value in this world, a justification for me being here. I used to tear myself apart looking for reasons and ways to solve the people issue. And then I realized – I just don’t care that much about other people anymore. I don’t care what they think (I put little stock into that one long ago, but now I know I can completely exist outside of opinion). I’ve literally stopped being interested and shut off when people talk. Other people slow me down – I find it suffocating, frustrating and overwhelming to be around the needy, greedy and tacky bottom feeders, grasping and manipulating. Its the wheedling, naked need that shuts me down.

The upside of momentum and notice is that the RIGHT kind of people – respectful, well paying, organized people – are also reaching out to me. Those connections I like a whole lot, because they are easy to manage. They know what they want, they respect my work and talents, and they can pay for my time. I’m well worth my rates, and I love the defined nature of a contract. Eventually, I’ll have my completely outfitted production company, and funding for the projects I want to pursue, under my direction. It is all coming together quite nicely.

I’m energized, but cautious. No one handed me anything that I’ve created or developed in myself. God gave me these gifts and this incredible brain, as well as a finely tuned intuition. I’m unapologetic about how incredible I am as a person and an artist. Arrogant? Nah, just amazing.

Peace,
Melissa