[meantjulep]

Reviewing my Monoprice drawing tablet + talking some alternatives to signing your life over to Adobe. I do my digital work on a cheap laptop on a cheap tablet with cheap art programs because I have to right now. It’s not ideal, but you can make anything work for you.

Don’t let your financial limitations stop you from creating cool stuff.

[meantjulep]

Just starting my new channel, guys!

It’s going to be dedicated to comic artists trying to figure out this whole thing: namely, not starving and making it our full-time life’s work. I’ll trying to encourage folks with advice about stuff I’ve dealt with and am dealing with.

 Overall, I just want to inspire people to keep going when it get tough. Being an artist is tough, and we all get discouraged.

I’ll also have a series dedicated to cons and artist alley, mostly talking about things like table set up, how to price your work, how to work it when you’re introverted, how not to get scammed or end up at a bad con, how to cope when you DO have a bad con, and things like that.

Also making a segment dedicated to talking on industry issues like the depiction of women and minorities in comics, tracing and plagiarism, and the role of artists in social change in the realm of comics and pop culture.

I’m really excited about it. Signal boost would be appreciated, as would topic suggestions or questions you’d like answered on the show!

[meantjulep]

When You’re an Artist Who Fears Success

Why it’s totally okay to be afraid, but not okay not try: a lesson in how to art.

Figuring out what exactly I want to do with my art has been a long, difficult thing that I still haven’t quite put together. I wasn’t one of those kids fumbling around, trying to decide whether or not to go into art in college.

I always knew.

But going into art wasn’t as cut-and-dry as all that. It was my major, sure. I loved comics and video games and the sort of art the faculty largely stuck their noses up at. 

By the time I was a junior in college, I’d sworn off comic books. Looking back, I don’t really know why I did this. Actually, in a lot of ways, I think I do.

I was always a perfectionist.

Not a competitive type of perfectionist. I just wanted to do well and succeed in what I did. And for the most part, I did. I rarely struggled in school, even in college. I never had to pull all-nighters or worry about failing tests, let alone entire classes.

But, as a result, I never really learned how to fail. And when I did, it was emotionally taxing in the most unproductive way. I agonize over it when I let people down. It fills me with unbelievable dread and stress.

So for a long time, I just assumed I was a perfectionist. I was also a procrastinator, especially with my art. 

There is nothing rewarding about being a procrastinating, perfectionist of an artist.

It’s miserable. Why? Because not only do you never love anything you do (if you even like it), but you get trapped in a cycle of putting off art because you know it won’t be good enough. And not doing anything only further ensures that what you do next won’t be up to snuff.

I would watch friends draw prolifically, churning out beautiful sketches and pieces in a volume so much greater than mine. And it was all good work.

What the heck was my problem, you know? 

Why couldn’t I just sit down and draw. Just draw. Somewhere in the back of my head, I decided maybe I just didn’t have the drive to be an artist.

...

Then, I thought about it. I procrastinated because I was a perfectionist. I was afraid of failing. Afraid of not being good enough.

And then, I went further and realized I was afraid of success as much as I was afraid of failure.

How can you be afraid of success, you might ask? It’s not that I’m scared of making oodles of money (in art, yeah. right...), or having my name known. The thing is, I’ve always wanted to be an artist just to inspire other people to create. I want to make people think, and want to express themselves creatively. 

But being afraid of success is a real thing.

Success...

Risks changing who you are, and how other relate to you.

Can disappear and is difficult to sustain under pressure of others’ expectations.

Opens up new options and pathways, and basically any future planning is horrifying.

Maybe it’s just me having an existential crisis. Will what I do matter? If I stay unknown, I don’t have to worry about it. I don’t have to be afraid of what others thing of me and my art.

I think that’s what divides artistic success from other kinds. Art is a piece of the self, at least in some way. A judgment on your work feels so much more like a judgment on you, the artist.

So now that I’ve realized success scares me, how do I, as an artist, make myself go for it anyway?

Overcoming Fear & Procrastination

Start Streaming.

I only recently started streaming on Picarto and while I don’t have a solid schedule yet, streaming means people get to see me in the process. They get to see me make mistakes. They see the art before I want it to be seen—and I have to learn to be okay with that. Plus, involving fans in the process is, well. Fun. 

Give Yourself Deadlines.

I’m great at hitting deadlines for other people. Not so much for myself. But giving them to myself in the first place is helpful. It helps me manage my time and stay away from bad habits. Even if I don’t meet those deadlines for myself (with professional obligations getting in the way), it’s good to have them in the first place.

Use a Pen.

Or anything else you can’t erase, really. I work largely in digital, where I can infinitely erase mistakes. That’s great! But it also means I can neurotically police my art to the point of madness. For sketches and doodling, I try to use a pen. It forces me to be okay with what I put on the page. And if it’s not, I have to be okay with knowing that that’s part of the process. I’m not going to be perfect in the first go. No artist is.

Practice Thumbnails.

They’ll tell you this in school, but it’s been one of the hardest things for me to put into practice. But really, making thumbnails is another one of those low-pressure-doesn’t-have-to-be-perfect things that actually really helps you work towards things you do want to show and work out to their fullest potential.

Remember that NO ONE Gets It Right the First Time.

Practice and failure and struggle and angst is just part of being an artist. How we channel those feelings is what really matter at the end of they day. We can do what I’ve done over and over again: allowing failure to discourage and control so that we can’t bring ourselves to pick up a pencil for weeks or months at a time. 

We can let it rule us when we fail. We can wallow in feeling like we’ll never be good enough, or get caught up in comparisons, or fret that we hate everything we’ve ever done.

(Please don’t it’s really terrible.)

Or, we can stop. Breathe. And pick it up again. 

Let’s not be content to let fear allow us to grow discouraged and stagnant. Tackle those things you’re afraid of. And if it doesn’t come out right the first time? That’s totally normal. It’s okay. Trying is a success in itself. 

And the only failure is when we never pick up the pen.

[ac-mcfucked-up-deactivated20140]

Really low prices make me less likely to commission an artist. Me: I’m not an artist. I do commission artists - I spend around $300-600 a month on digital art commissions. I sometimes find an artist who has really impressive work, or a unique style, or something else that makes me think “I should commission this person.”. Then I look at their prices and they are crazily low. As in less than 20 dollars for a colour full body character. And I don’t commission them. Because I can’t pay prices that low and feel good about myself for doing it. I know it takes hours to draw even one character. Plus the time it takes to study the brief, look at the references, communicate with me, etc etc. No way are they making even minimum wage this way, let alone a living wage. I commission art because it’s fun. It’s my hobby. If I’m knowingly paying someone slave wages to support my hobby, it isn’t fun. To artists who undercharge: Please reconsider. I’ve heard many reasons why you decide to do this (see below). But if you price your work like you don’t respect it, you won’t get clients who will respect you or your work either. You charge peanuts, you get monkeys. To commissioners who push for these prices: Have some respect. Not just for the artists, but for the other commissioners out there. You’re giving us all a bad name. If you can’t afford decent prices, don’t be mean about it. Save up, or find some other hobby. Or hey, learn to draw.

Comments I get whenever I say the above:

“No-one will buy commissions from me at decent prices.” - That’s a pity. But you realise by underpricing like this you are making your problem worse, by contributing to the “art should be dirt cheap” mindset that seems to exist in dA and other places? (okay mostly dA, that place is a cesspit) Besides, there are other things you can do than keep lowering prices. There’s tons of advice in dA: ‘Official’ Pricing Your Commissions or Artwork Thread Finding Freelance work: pricing and self doubt! And other places: How to get commissions: A guide Getting the Most Out of Commissions If none of the above helps you… maybe you need to reconsider if you are at the right stage in your development to be offering commissions. Sorry.

“I’m only doing this for fun, I don’t care about the money.” - Good for you. But there are others that are trying to make a living doing this. Have some consideration for them, yes?

“It’s the clients pushing my prices down.” - Gah. Then your clients are awful people who don’t respect you. It’s a trap though - you charge low prices, you get cheap clients. There’s only one way out of that trap.

(Commissioner says) “But I want this drawn and I can’t afford higher prices.” - I want to live in an exact replica of Wayne Manor, but I can’t afford that. So, um, I don’t. Simplify your idea, or don’t commission it until you can afford to do so without ripping off the artist.

(Commissioner says) “By paying less per artist I can support more artists.” - No. Just… no. You are not supporting artists, you are exploiting them. Paying less per artists lets you exploit more artists.

“Just tip the artist.” - I have done that, but it sends the wrong message. Tipping isn’t the norm in this game, so when I tip artists assume it’s because they did an extra-awesome job, when in fact I’m tipping them because they did their normal-awesome job. Plus if an artist is charging one-third or one-quarter what they should be, do I tip them 300%?

(Image by me. Not an artist, remember? The price list is made up, but based on real lists I’ve seen recently.)

submitted by -badgermushroom

[meantjulep]

To Artists Who’ve Ever Had a Bad Con [Geekonomicon 2015]

It’s Saturday at comic con. Friday didn’t go as well as you imagined. You got up this morning believing that today would be better. It has to be, right? You’ve heard good things about this con. You want to be excited, you want to make people smile. You want to meet cosplayers and talk to people about your work and sell some things. 

You have it in your head that you’d at least like to break even, but hey; profit would be even better. 

But as each person passes your table pretending to be on their phone, or giving the all-important second-long glance without slowing down, or not looking at you at all. You’re invisible. The hours grow long and silent, and you wonder: what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with my work? Am I really that bad? 

I’ve been at my table before, holding back tears and doubting I’ll ever be a real artist. Who am I kidding, right? After all, if my work was worth anything, surely people who actually stop and look.

Here’s a truth, artist: it’s not you. Sometimes it’s the con.

I spent my weekend feeling utterly miserable about myself and my artwork. And Saturday night I realized something. It wasn’t me. It was the con. Now, I don’t know the full behind-the-scenes story. But I do know my subjective experience at Geekonomicon 2015 was the worst I’ve ever had at any comic convention. 

I don’t say that lightly, to smear anyone, or to complain for the sake of complaining.

I feel like not saying anything about this experience would be a disservice to my fellow artists and creators. Hopefully something positive can be gleaned from it this note.

Friday

I arrive at the con about an hour before opening. For once, I’m by myself, and have unfortunate discovery of just how heavy all of my stuff is; display, art bag, art, banner. Yikes. I struggle to get in to the convention center, and make a beeline for the registration table.

Error 1: There is no packet, map, or record keeping.

I ask the woman behind the table for a badge: telling her my name, and that I’m for Artist Alley. I’m told that she recognizes me name, but that they’re having trouble getting enough tables for artists so I might be in the hall. This displeases me. She has no documentation of anyone coming in; no checklist, no map, nothing. Just an armful of badges. 

I get into Artist Alley, wandering aimlessly with the full weight of my stuff. No map means I have no clue where I’m supposed to be. Neither does the staff. I find a few who are being given stern words by an upset vendor. 

The story I hear is that someone somehow hacked their website and ‘bought’ spaces without paying. To this I would saying having a real map and a real list of everyone who has paid from the beginning would’ve largely taken care of it.

I got very tired of this excuse as the weekend progressed.

(( later, I found out that they had simply never shut down ticket buying on their website. they were selling spacing they didn’t have and overbooking and didn’t do anything about it. ))

I have to stand and wait (15~20 minutes) while that issue is sorted and, not wanting to be difficult, agree to be placed in the celebrity area, which is in the hall beside Artist Alley and also contained a large gaming area. My immediate concern is how dim that hall was. I’m told to pick a table. Many are empty, and I select one that seems to be under a good spotlight compared to the rest of the area. 

I realize at this point that I’ve injured my back.

Friday, I was surrounded by empty tables.The only bright spot is that the neighbors I did have, behind me, were the best neighbors a gal could ask for. Helpful, kind, friendly; you name it. Best part of the con were the other vendors and artists. 

At 2PM (the con opened at noon), I begin to wonder if the con has been opened. There’s no one here. Nearly everyone I see has a vendor, volunteer, or staff badge.  Energy was low and, honestly, sad. 

(Another pro was there was never a line in the bathroom, I guess.) 

In all eight hours of Friday, I sell 4 prints. Not good. I’m feeling low and my already dwindling hopes for the con continue to fade. I leave with a horrendous migraine and feeling low in spirits. I drive to Ocean Springs to stay with my aunt; thinking that Saturday will be better and I just need a good night’s sleep to get back in the saddle. 

Unfortunately, I also get sick that night. 

Saturday

I arrive on the early side and set my table back up for the day. I’m not feeling good vibes; at this point I’m convinced it’s me. I spend most of the morning fighting tears while still trying to be cheerful and greet people who pass by. 

Error 2: Slapdash layout.

There’s an art to setting up aisles and tables at cons. Certain spots are better than others. Optimally, you arrange Artist Alley in such a way that attendees can easily navigate it and each aisle is full. My aisle was bookended by a perpendicular section of tables, giving the appearance from one end that it was actually a dead end. Again, again, I had empty tables around me. In fact, despite the space issue, I noticed empty tables in Artist Alley, too. Odd. 

Traffic on my aisle was significantly lower than the one behind me. Additionally, the artists that were relocated outside of Artist Alley were already at a big disadvantage. Signage was never changed to reflect our location; thus no one knew we were actually out there. I’m near the celebrities; they all seem very nice and down-to-earth. Lots of voice actors and whatnot. While they were all great, the staff showed enormous favoritism towards them. While I know this happens at other cons, certainly, we’re not just talking fetching drinks and food. I overhead information about things that were changing, being rearranged, and explained that was relevant to everyone. I was never told any of it, despite being nearby. 

When I did have a staff member come up to me Saturday afternoon and ask if I was having fun, I was honest. I told him no, I really wasn’t; I hadn’t made any sales that day. His response was well it could be worse. Angry and upset and trying not to show it, my answer was “No, it really can’t be.” 

He has nothing to say to this.

Error 3: Staff arguing in the aisles.

More than once, the staff converged at the end of my aisle and bickered with one another about this and that. They were clearly stressed and there was a obviously some trouble with communication overall. 

However, this should’ve been taken elsewhere: not done in front of the vendors of attendees. The tension was palpable, guys.

 I understand the weekend wasn’t going how you wanted it to, either. But that was really unprofessional and left a bad taste in my mouth.

Saturday continues to progress, and it’s not better than Friday. In fact, it’s worse. There are people, but not what you what expect given the massive space that had been rented out. My aunt conveyed that the ads she saw were worded in a confusing way that made it seems as though the con wasn’t open to the general public. I’m assuming other outreach and advertising efforts were minimal or flawed given the sorry turnout. 

Error 4: REARRANGING TABLES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CON

In the middle of Saturday, tables start to get moved from the celebrity area to the main aisle (behind me), creating an entirely new row for celebrities. This caused a ton of commotion and confusion, though I overheard a staff member mentioned it was being down to “improve traffic flow.” 

Again, something that should’ve been done before midway through the con. 

Fed up with a lack of sales, I took my money and went to Artists Alley. I bought a giant plushie sheep. It was the best decision I made all weekend. 

I talked to several vendors and artists; all of whom were ranging from disappointed to upset to downright angry. Some even asked for refunds (and I don’t blame them) and were denied. 

Again, traffic is a big problem. Few people who actually go down my aisle are even interested in stopping and looking. That said, I did meet some great people who really seemed to like my work. (So shoutout to all you guys who stopped and talked to me! You’re aces.) 

In any case, by the end of Saturday (a 10-hour day) I’d only sold another 4 prints. 8 total. That’s $160 dollars. That’s not even breaking even. $100 table, $30~ gas, $20~ paper, $50~ food and snacks...I didn’t even have to worry about a hotel and I still didn’t break even. That makes this con officially financially worse than even the worst Wizard Con I’ve worked (and in my experience, Wizard Con couldn’t care less about the artists). 

I decide not to stay for Sunday. I know it won’t be worth it, and I’m honestly too fed up to deal. My neighbor Tyler (you’re awesome) helps me pack up and take stuff to my car so I don’t hurt my back again. Apparently a lot of vendors made this same decision. I was so ready to be done with the whole thing that I even left that night and drove the 3 hours straight home.

 So in short, Geekonomicon suffered from:

Lackluster outreach and advertising

(Which resulted in low turn out)

Profound disorganization

Unprofessional (and even rude) staff

Insufficient communication (both before and during the con)

Now, I don’t write all of this just to gripe. I know managing a con is tough. I know things weren’t going how they wanted it to, either. I know. I get it. That said, there’s no excuse for what happened. Even if you excuses were valid, that doesn’t mean how things were handled in response were don’t well. Especially when so many problems could’ve been fixed or mitigated with a little organization. 

Some people tried to give them some slack in that it was only their second year. To that, I don’t give them any leeway. The best con I’ve ever worked (Mississippi Comic Con) was also only in its second year; it was beautifully orchestrated, organized, and those guys at AVC Conventions worked their buns off to advertise; online and off. 

So I don’t give Geekonomicon a pass on that. And I won’t be going back. I present this as a cautionary message to both artists, vendors, and con organizers. And again, I recognize that I don’t know what was going on behind the scenes. This is not casting blame, only my observations and my personal experience. That said, my point of all of this, really?

Keep Your Chin Up, Artists.

You’re going to have bad cons. Even when the staff and organization is there, you still might have a bad con. Sometimes the attendees just aren’t that into art, and sometimes you don’t know that until you get there and experience it. Losses are rough. Bad experiences can make you doubt yourself and your potential. Don’t let it, please. I am that artist, and I don’t want anyone else to feel as badly about themselves as I did this weekend. 

Never stop working on what you love. And don’t let any con define your worth.