26 August, 2026

Why a Fiber Artist Makes Paper Art

2026-08-26T10:20:42-05:00An Artist's Life|Comments Off on Why a Fiber Artist Makes Paper Art

When I applied for an art show a few months back, I had to pick a category for my art: Fiber Arts or Paper. And I was stumped. I do both. And sometimes both in the same piece. Ultimately I decided that I would go with fiber arts because that’s what I’m “known for” in the local community and if someone was looking for where my booth was, that was probably the category that they would flip to.

I started adding more and more paper to my work about the time of the pandemic. I was trying to find things I could teach people that they could do from their own homes. I was also bored out of my mind and looking for classes I could take from home. Fabric and thread were hard to find. Paper was just much easier to get ahold of, especially recycled paper. It was an obvious choice for me because I’ve been designing fabrics from recycled papers for years, so it was already a part of my practice, just not necessarily the finished product.

I didn’t really set out to become a paper artist. At first, paper was just a practical solution to a practical problem. But once I started working with it, I realized how much of the way I already thought about fabric could be applied to paper—and how many things paper could do that fabric couldn’t.

Fabric and paper really aren’t that different. Both can be folded, layered, stitched, cut, pieced, gathered, curved. One thing I appreciate about paper is its ability to have some structure without having to do layers of interfacing and foam. One of the really fun things about moving more into paper was the chance to discover things. Fabric is familiar enough that I can often look at a piece and have a pretty good idea what it’s going to do before I even touch it. Paper still surprises me. I don’t understand the technical specs of paper at all. Seriously, if anyone knows a class or a book that explains GSM and the different kinds of paper in language that someone-not-a-paper-geek can understand, I need it. I know I have papers I love the feel and weight of but I don’t know how to find that thing again. But I digress.

Paper and fabric also share a lot of the same material components. I have worked with paper made from cotton, silk and wool, just like fabric. Both art forms also have a long history of making something interesting out of scraps. Traditionally quilters didn’t necessarily start with a perfectly coordinated stack of new fabric. Sometimes the interesting part is figuring out how a collection of leftovers and scraps can work together. Paper can work the same way. Surface design techniques like marbling and block printing work great on both surfaces. In fact, one of my favorite moments from a Zoom class where I was a student was pulling out my quilting ruler and rotary cutter to cut some paper for a project. The other students in the class all had book arts background and had never thought of using what they thought of as “quilting tools”. We all laughed about getting so immersed in your own media that you forget to think outside the box.

Several of the classes I have been teaching lately have been all about using recycled paper. I love this for several reasons.

It changes the way you think about starting a project from “what should I buy” to “what do I have?”. It forces you to think about the potential in what’s sitting in front of you instead of curating the perfect color match. The limitations of what you have become part of the problem solving. And for me, this is really the fun part. Sometimes a technique I learned for fabric turns out to work beautifully on paper. Sometimes paper does something I wish fabric would do. And sometimes I make something that sits somewhere in between and makes the whole question of which category it belongs in seem a little silly.

This book is one of the samples from my One Sheet, Six Pockets class. You could use any kind of paper to make the cover for this book, but for my samples, I used the ubiquitous brown paper shopping bag. It’s cheap and easy; everyone has one. It’s actually a nice weight and thickness for this project and makes a book that feels sturdy. This tomatoes design was made from catalog photos of tablecloths and clothing, a scrap of glitter card stock, green masking tape and a little stitching in green thread. The diagonal line you see across the front is one of the six pockets that you fold into the cover. Inside is filled with scrap paper to make the pages: copier paper, graph paper, misprinted pattern pages.

The project in the Envelope Book class is another folded structure but without the pages. It’s maybe more for organizing a collection of objects like photos. It’s also made with just two sheets of paper. Something like wrapping paper would be great for this one and I know I have a couple of pieces folded up that were too nice to just toss.

These are both very simple structures, but that’s part of what I like about them. You don’t need a studio full of specialized bookbinding equipment to start making things with paper. You can start with the paper you already have and try something without worrying that you are using up the “good stuff”.

17 August, 2026

I love people who love.

2026-08-17T21:48:46-05:00An Artist's Life, Everything Else|2 Comments

I was watching a video today of Lin-Manuel Miranda asking Jodi Benson (the voice of Ariel) to sign the DVD cover of his copy of The Little Mermaid. The look of pure joy on his face just made me smile. That kind of love for something is completely contagious and infectious. It makes me feel good to see that happen. It made me think about how much I love it when I meet someone who tells me about something they love. Now, I’ve never met Lin-Manuel, but he is utterly transparent about things that bring him joy. And one of my themes for the year is about finding more joy, so why not seek out some more people who love things!

Here are some things I love.

  • Two of my very favorite moments of joy were meeting Kermit the Frog while wearing my Sesame Street tshirt (2006) and seeing the original ruby slippers from the Wizard of Oz (2019).
  • Every one of my dogs has had a theme song. We sing it to them often. Olive’s theme song is All of Me by Willie Nelson but you have to change the lyrics to “Olivine, why not take Olivine? Can’t you see, I am no good without you.” (because that’s her full name).

Here are some other expressions of love that maybe you haven’t happened across, but you should keep an eye out for them.

Both Wil Wheaton and John Scalzi tell the world about how much they love their wives. If you are a nerd of my generation, you absolutely know who Wil Wheaton is and you should read his blog. Scalzi is an awesome sci-fi author also with a blog. I’ve read some of his books (Old Man’s War series) multiple times. I once saw him do a reading at a little library in Roseville MN and he was absolutely charming. In a world where “the old ball and chain” and badmouthing your spouse is all too common and considered a funny joke, these two are a breath of fresh air. They seem like good humans.

The Dogist is just a constant stream of people unashamedly loving their dogs. His whole job is walking down the street and asking people to tell him stories about their dogs. As a person who generally wants to meet all of the dogs, I love seeing the posts come up on my feed.

Stanley Tucci’s series about traveling through Italy is mesmerizing. Tucci in Italy is streaming in many places. I am a vegetarian and have been for decades, but they way he talks about some of the carnivorous things he is eating makes me want to try them all.

This specific episode of Mr Rogers Neighborhood where he visits with artist Eric Carle is one of my absolute favorites. Mr Rogers is the epitome of transparent joy. If you’ve ever heard the term dopamine dressing, dressing like Mr Rogers in my cardigan and sneakers is absolutely dopamine dressing for me.

So I want to know: what is something YOU LOVE? or tell me about someone who loves something so much it makes you smile. Do it. Leave a comment. Share the love.

12 August, 2026

The Exhausting Business of Maybe

2026-08-12T17:35:19-05:00An Artist's Life|Comments Off on The Exhausting Business of Maybe

I’ve been thinking lately about bandwidth and burnout as an artist.

A few weeks ago, a friend posted on Instagram about a kind of post-event depression that sounded really familiar. She talked about the constant cycle of making, selling, and finding the next event, and the feeling that you can never really slow down. That got me thinking about how much of being an artist is actually preparing for the next thing.

In the past two weeks, I’ve written and submitted two grant applications and an article proposal, written seven blog posts for a partner, submitted work for three juries, taught three classes, designed and proposed another class and made the samples, and shipped about a dozen orders from my Etsy shops. And that’s just the stuff I remember. I also have also personal stuff going on (who doesn’t?!), laundry that needs doing, and I don’t think we’ve mowed the lawn in months. I’m sure this sounds familiar.

Most of the work I’ve been doing this week is for future work. I don’t work if I don’t make the work. There is always another application, proposal, class, project, or opportunity that needs to be imagined and prepared for. It’s a really unique kind of emotional labor: staying motivated when so much of your future depends on applying, pitching, submitting, proposing, and then waiting to find out whether someone else has decided you get to do the thing. You can spend hours thinking really hard about something, making plans, imagining how it might work—and then just WAIT for months in limbo.

There’s also an interesting balancing act in trying to apply for enough things to stay busy without applying for so many things that, if some kind of miracle happens and you get everything, you can’t actually DO all the work.

This week felt a little like a game of Jenga. Everything was rolling along, and then something minor happened that added one more thing to the endless task list. And it had a lot of unknowns. Everything wobbled. I spent 45 minutes doing dumb little computer admin tasks, supposedly trying to motivate myself to go cut down some paper for a project. I picked up and put down a couple of other projects. I was scattered and couldn’t seem to do anything.

I think this is the part of burnout that can be hard to recognize. It doesn’t always look like collapsing in a heap and being unable to work. Sometimes it looks like burnt toast: spending 45 minutes noodling around because your brain can’t figure out which thing to pick up first. Sometimes it’s the feeling that you should be able to handle just one more thing when there really isn’t any more room.

So I took my laptop outside and sat at the patio table for a while. A change of scenery often helps. Mostly, though, I just needed to stop and think.

I realized that my solution to most problems is basically: just throw more Becka at it.

Work harder. Do one more thing. Make it work. Figure it out. Add another task to the list and somehow accomplish all of it. Except there just wasn’t enough Becka to go around. So what could I throw at it instead?

It turns out I could throw someone else at it. I could ask for help.

It wasn’t the first thing I thought of. But as soon as I sent the email and asked, I could feel the wobble stabilize. My brain immediately calmed down.

The problem wasn’t magically solved. The laundry was still there and the lawn was still feral. There are still a dozen projects in limbo, but none of them needed any more me. At least right now.

Sometimes the answer to running out of bandwidth isn’t finding more bandwidth. It’s just finding another pair of hands.

5 August, 2026

Unplugging the sewing machine and making truly by hand

2026-08-05T15:49:42-05:00An Artist's Life|1 Comment

I just got done stitching a couple of handmade books this afternoon and as I walked to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, I realized I was smiling. I like making books and not just as an entertaining way to pass the time but I feel good after I’ve finished one. Books have a lot of repeating elements. There is a rhythm and order to the way you cover a board with paper and the folding and punching of signatures. The stitching method has a pattern. There have been studies that are often quoted about the way your brain responds to repetative motions like knitting as a way of reducing stress and lighting up sections of your brain that are connected to making repeated motions with your hands. No one is ever going to study bookbinding the same way, but my guess is that its the same responses and neurons that are firing.

There’s a new art marketplace that hasn’t even launched yet, but I’m part of the first wave of artists to try it out. I was the same way with Etsy. It’s always been my philosophy as an artist with any new show or program or marketplace is that none of these new things are ever going to be successful unless people participate. So I signed up before they even launched. I might even join the Discord channel because that’s where all of the beta testers are hanging out.

The new place is called Fybe. and among many of their ways of distinguishing themselves as a new kind of marketplace, they are really putting an emphasis on handmade. Their mission is to make their marketplace truly handmade – every vendor and every product is juried by human moderators, AI generated content is not allowed, and it’s community and crowd-sourced for artists by artists. Their social media graphics aren’t polished templates, but look like the way I used to make computer graphics in the 90s (in a good way.)  It sounds pretty awesome; I like the vibe. I remember 20 years ago when Etsy was more like that. Shops at Fybe haven’t even launched to the public yet, so I don’t know how much I’ll like it or if this new idea will even work, but I am willing to be one of the guinea pigs.

What does all of that have to do with making books? I was thinking about what I might want to have in this new shop. I added a bunch of patterns already because those are really easy and it lets me get to know how the platform works. It’s a logistics nightmare to try and think about having the same inventory in two online venues, so I thought maybe I’d make a few things that were just for the new place.

So I carved a new stamp of a dragon (which you can see at the top of the post). A friend told me once that I should have books with dragons on them and I thought that was a good idea. I’ve loved dragons forever. I have a paper dragon garland that hangs in my studio. The book I’m listening to as I write this has a dragon in it. I love them almost as much as dogs.

Ironically, there’s a piece of dragon fabric sitting on the other end of my studio table. It’s been there for more than a week. I love it and it’s really fun, but I haven’t done anything with it. And I was thinking as I was stitching, I should make something from that fabric and then I immediately thought no I don’t want to get my sewing machine out and all of those bits and pieces. 

For literally decades, my art was designing fabric and sewing clothes. I still do that, but I’ve been doing it less and less. I started thinking today about why that is. Do I not like sewing anymore? Nope. That’s not it. It’s that I don’t like all of the “baggage” that comes with sewing.

Everything is expensive. Fabric is expensive, especially clothing fabrics. My sewing machine cost more than my laptop and my phone (and I use those a heck of a lot more). Making an “art” piece costs a LOT of money.

It’s hard to find. I wrote a blog post recently about buying fabric from India because I was so frustrated in trying to find some basic clothing fabrics. As much as I adore Spoonflower, there are only about 2-3 of their fabrics that I would consider wearable.

I have to order everything online. I can’t get matching thread or elastic anywhere locally beyond just the bare bones basics. And my skill level is a little beyond the “gathered elastic skirt” pattern. If I run into an issue and need a little twill tape to fix it, it will be 7-10 business days before I can solve that problem.

It’s a hassle. I have to wash and iron and figure out a pattern and cut something out and I can’t do any of that in my studio. I don’t have the space. And none of those are the fun steps. I have to get out all of my machines and sewing tools because they take up too much space to have them out every day. There’s a lot of prep that has to happen.

Sewing has gotten frustrating.

What’s not frustrating? The actual sewing with my own two hands. I hand stitched part of a holiday ornament today. I’m working on something for a class. It was fun. I wanted to do some more. I thought about starting another one in a different color. There was no machine involved. Just my hands. Then I packed up some kits for my Etsy shop. Same thing. No machines, just measuring out some materials and sorting everything into kits. Then I pulled out these books to bind.

I made the covers last night so they could sit overnight for the glue to dry. It turns out paper is easy. These are all made from scraps. There’s some marbled paper I made in a class and some recycled security envelopes. I stamped on some with hand-carved stamps. I used some pieces of wood veneer. I can get paper nearly anywhere and a lot of it costs me next to nothing. These are bound with waxed linen because it’s the thread I like the best and I do have to order that online, but I don’t have to have it. I’ve also bound books with embroidery thread and a chunk of beeswax from the farmers market.

There’s not a plugged in or expensive tool in the entire process. And that’s not just kind of cool. That’s the kind of project that makes me smile the whole time I’m working on it.

15 July, 2026

Curiousity is my core & Updating my branding

2026-07-15T18:05:48-05:00An Artist's Life, Everything Else|1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about doing a brand refresh for a while now. I wrote a whole post about this logo, font, and the colors I chose in 2015! That’s 11 years since I’ve updated it. You can see the 2015 version on the left and my updated version on the right. The washed-out-orange and too-bright-green from that previous version were just starting to bother me. In fact, I avoided using them on my website and other things because they just didn’t really feel like they were right any more.

The aqua color stayed exactly the same, but I tweaked the other three colors to make them colors that feel more like “me” in 2026. It’s kind of a subtle change because those four basic colors are still my favorites and still feel like the go-to colors for everything that I do. I struggled a little with the goldfish because that looks really different to me, but I think it’s because I’ve been looking at that other color combination for 11 years. I’m hoping because everything is essentially just a tweak that I can just use up everything like business cards with the old logo and reprint with the new one.

If you look around a bit, you’ll also see that the banner changed and I rearranged a lot of things on the landing page. I wanted to make a little more white space and be able to find a better way of introducing everything I do here instead of just jumping right into the blog. I wanted it to look a little more playful. I spent a couple of hours writing a new intro which I hope captures more about what I do and why, rather than just giving a list of credentials.

I’m an artist who explores ideas through paper, fiber, pattern, and technology. My favorite projects usually start with curiosity and end somewhere I wasn’t expecting. I enjoy exploring new techniques, combining ideas from unexpected places, and seeing what happens when I follow a question instead of a plan.

I share that process through my artwork, writing, and teaching because I think creativity is more fun when it’s shared. I believe that seeing the whole creative process—the experiments, the successes, the failures, the art, the business, and everything in between—makes makes trying something new feel a little more possible.

Curiosity is contagious. I hope you find something here that inspires you to follow your own.

My husband also helped me take a new updated studio shot today. Olive put herself in the photo and I think it’s just perfect. In a lot of my intros and bios that I use when I am teaching, I talk about working in a “micro-studio” and I love to have a shot where you can see what that really means.

13 July, 2026

Behind the Scenes: Teaching (or not teaching) at a national conference

2026-07-13T11:20:38-05:00An Artist's Life, Everything Else|Comments Off on Behind the Scenes: Teaching (or not teaching) at a national conference

I have been invited to teach at about eight national conferences over the past 10 years. These have been for organizations representing a wide range of fiber art genres like the Surface Design Association, Handweavers Guild of America, International Old Lace Society, and the Association of Sewing and Design Professionals. Usually I have taught some kind of technology-related topic, like digital fabric design or behind the scenes of an Etsy shop and I LOVE teaching at these kinds of events.

Recently we had to cancel two of the classes I was scheduled to teach and I made a post about it just to let people know.  Someone on social media commented that it was a shame that they were cancelling things so early, since it’s about 6 weeks before the event is scheduled. I thought to myself “Early?!” and then realized that I should write a blog post about the process of teaching at one of these events because this seems anything but early to me. I’ll use this most recent conference as an example. Although the details are different for every one, most of them coordinate things on a similar timeline.

Application

I first applied to teach at this conference in March 2025, before they had even announced the event location. It was a conference I taught at before so I know that no matter where it ended up being that they were going to put on a great event.

The application for teaching at an event like this is complex. For this event, first there’s a whole section about me: listing my teaching experience, awards, accomplishments, and credentials.  It’s kind of a section to sell yourself as an expert in your area. Many more “modern” craft conferences I’ve seen just ask for your social media handle and number of followers, which is certainly easy, but I think short-changes a lot of really awesome teachers who are not social media kind of people. I’ve had applications to these kinds of shows rejected multiple times, even though I have all kinds of awesome teaching experience because my Facebook page didn’t have the requisite number of followers. It’s a different strategy for recruiting participants for sure.

This application also requested a letter of recommendation from someplace you had previously taught, which was an extra step to figure out who to ask and to get that to submit.

Next is a section about what you want to teach. In general conferences usually have a variety of formats: 90 minute lectures, 2-3 hour class, 1 day or multi day classes. I always try to propose at least 5 different things so I give the organizers a way to book me multiple ways. I like to be busy if I go, so I like being able to teach two half day classes in a day and it helps the conference organizers split things like travel costs and lodging across multiple events.

I think for this conference I proposed 5-6 different sessions of different lengths. I did a variety of things from technology/artist development topics to some hands on mixed media/fiber art kinds of topics so I had what I felt like was a lot to offer.

Class Proposals

Proposing a class might seem like the simplest part of this process, but for me it’s the most complicated because there are so many details to think of.

Can I teach this in a space with no wifi access?

This happens ALL the time at conference centers. Wifi access is always terrible at every conference center I’ve taught at. I remember one time calling my husband from the conference after the first day and having him switch our cell phone plan to unlimited data so I could tether my laptop to the cell phone and get through class the next day. Not even kidding. This often means that I have to think of different ways of teaching things. Something that I would normally just do a live demo (like showing how to edit an Etsy listing) I will have to do with slides/screenshots or pre-recorded video, which changes the preparation for the class a lot.

Can I transport all of the tools/materials I need to teach this? Does it have supplies people can’t bring in a carry on (ie bookbinding awls)?

Balancing what you are asking students to bring and what you are providing is a whole puzzle. I don’t ever want people to have to bring bulky things in their suitcase that they are going to have to bring back home again (ie. rolls of waxed paper). It’s pretty easy to bring scissors, but a utility knife is more problematic. So I need to think through all of that because part of the proposal is the materials fee (for what I am providing to them) and a supply list of what they need to bring. I have to know all of that when I propose the class.

Is it appealing to a wide range of skill levels?

This comes down to filling the class. It’s awesome to offer an advanced level class, but you seriously cut down on the number of students who are going to have the pre-requisites to take your advanced class. And since I have no input on the schedule, the class might get scheduled opposite something else cool and then the pool of potential students is reduced even more. So I try to think of things that I can do with as many different skill levels as possible.

Can I teach it effectively for 25+ students at a time?

Many conferences have a minimum class size of 25 students. It’s very different planning to teach an embroidery class for a class of 6 versus a class of 30. I have to really think about the reality that there’s one of me and I can’t demonstrate something one-on-one for more than 25 students. So the project and style of what I teach is different than what I would propose for a local class at an art center.

I had what I consider an epic fail in a class once that I just didn’t think through how much longer it would take for everyone to come and choose colors of felt or thread with a class of 30 people than in my typical class of 8. We didn’t come close to finishing our project and I still feel badly about that.

Describing it.

Once I have figured out the class topic, then I need to write a description. This is usually locked in to what I write in the proposal, so if I don’t get it fine tuned when I apply, it’s often a huge hassle to edit it later after it’s accepted. So I need to make sure I get this in as close to final form as I can.

Proposals often require a photo, so I also need to take time out and create a photo that can be used on the website and socials. If I am proposing a new project (to fit those conference style parameters) this sometimes means I need to stop and make a sample so I can photograph it. Since I often teach topics that are an artist business skills or tech class, that sometimes means inventing a compelling graphic to use since there’s nothing to photograph.

Writing the supply list.

This often needs to be submitted with the application so I need to do the math and come up with the materials fee (for things I am supplying) and write a detailed materials list of what students need to bring. Which means I need to have a pretty detailed lesson plan in mind when I am writing the proposal.

Organizing it so I don’t forget what I was thinking.

Because the timeline is so long (18 months between proposal and teaching) I usually put each class into it’s own google doc and I put every note for the class together. I start with a rough lesson plan, write out the materials list and all of my thinking/math behind it, write the description and add the photo right in the same doc. It’s so easy to forget “why did I decide that $45 would cover everything?” or what were the tasks that I was thinking of when I said students would learn XYZ in the description. This helps enormously when it gets closer to the class and it’s time to prep.

Waiting.

Please note in this timeline, that so far I’ve done about 5-6 hours worth of work and I haven’t even submitted these proposals yet. Usually you have to wait a couple of months before you know if anything you’ve proposed is accepted to the conference. I submitted in March and heard back around the end of May. For this conference they accepted two of the half-day classes I proposed.

Teaching stipends vary wildly from conference to conference; I’ve been offered $150 and $600 to teach the same 3 hour class session at two different events. The way this conference handles travel/lodging stipends for teachers is based on how many hours of teaching you are doing. Because I was only teaching 1 full day, I got only a partial offer to cover my travel expenses. It wasn’t what I was hoping for, but I knew that I liked teaching at this conference and it would be a great experience so I accepted, knowing that I would basically just break even after I had covered all of the expenses, essentially teaching for free.

I was a little concerned that both of the sessions I was teaching had been slotted in to the Sunday class sessions; Sunday was the last day of the workshop sessions for the conference. At every conference I’ve taught at, classes on the last day are always the hardest to fill because people are leaving to head back home. I signed the contract about 15 months before the event.

I also signed up to staff the “teacher booth” in the vendor hall at the conference, and to do a couple of volunteer shifts because I was going to need to fly in the day before to be able to be ready to teach at 8 am. Since my classes didn’t have a lot of supplies to bring, I’d have room in a suitcase and I could sell things at the teacher booth (like my new book) and possibly make a little extra income.

Registration & promotion.

Registration opened for the conference in September 2025, about 11 months before it was scheduled to happen and I participated in every optional event I could. In the late summer, I did a 5 minute video presentation about my sessions that the organization put on their YouTube channel. Teachers could do a “commercial” or a mini demo to help promote classes. This is the first conference that I’ve been a part of that has done this and I thought it was great. In October, I taught a couple of mini-online classes for the same organization and mentioned my conference classes. I posted them on my website and newsletter and social media and talked about what I was doing.

In December we got our first “check in” of how many students we had registered for our sessions. Conferences usually have a huge rush right when registrations open and then a trickle for the rest of the time. My numbers were pretty sad and I felt kind of discouraged. At this point I have invested about 10 hours of time into this conference between proposals, promotions, and paperwork. I did another social media campaign and encouraged people to share even if they weren’t interested in the conference itself to try to get the word out to a larger audience. I continued to post about it in my newsletter and talk about it as one of the events I had coming up when I did other classes and demos in the spring.

The conference organizers did a huge social media campaign in the spring and early summer. It is hands-down the best promo work for any conference I have participated in. They did a great job tagging teachers in posts and I really liked how they would pick a theme and highlight 5-6 sessions that fit the theme, really showing a more complete picture of all the different ways you could participate in the conference activities. I re-posted and shared and all the things with the posts that included my sessions. They bought ads. They did a lot of work and made it easy for me to amplify that. I also did a talk for their YouTube podcast and did a big plug for the classes at the end of that too and I know at least one person registered right then!

We had several more check ins in this time and I had doubled the number of people registered, but it still was only about half of what we needed to make it go. I feel like we did everything right, but it just wasn’t coming together.

The deadline.

The beginning of July (about 6 weeks prior) was the deadline to make a decision for whether classes would run or not. The reason I wrote this post is that someone commented that it seemed really early, especially since the registration didn’t close for about 4 more weeks. But there are really practical reasons for that. At 6 weeks out, airline tickets start to be a problem. The prices go up and the availability goes down. I would have to fly to this conference because 18 hours of driving each way to teach 6 hours of classes is just not practical. And there is the reality that even though there are people who do sign up at the last minute, attending a big conference isn’t a spur-of-the-moment kind of decision in general.

There’s also the real factor of the class size. Although I could have just said yes and taught a class of 2 students, that is going to be a very different class than that 25 person class I designed and proposed. There are a lot of class activities like discussions, demos, and brainstorming that are not the same with only 3 people in a room. I have always felt like it is way more difficult to teach a class of 3 than a class of 12.

We had a great talk and brainstormed different ways we could still teach the classes and have it work out, but it just boiled down to the fact that the numbers didn’t work for me or the organization.

The followup.

I posted on my social channels about the classes being cancelled and had a few comments about not getting discouraged, which I appreciate. It is disappointing. Checking back in with my tally, I think I probably invested about 12 hours in an opportunity that turned out to be no income for me. No new connections, no networking, no fun conference to attend. And even though it isn’t anything I did wrong, there is a negative vibe of being the teacher whose classes got cancelled, like they weren’t good enough or that something was wrong about them. And I had to announce that to the world.

But I know that’s not true. There were probably 10 different people at the core of putting together these classes to offer them at the conference and all of those people are absolute experts in their field. I am a good teacher and I know how to put together a great class. The staff that puts together this conference has decades of experience in knowing what people want at a conference and what they are going to sign up for. That application process means that they have all the information to get really excellent and expert people as presenters. The marketing people did their jobs getting the word out. We all 100% want this to succeed.

So it boils down to, what did go “wrong”?

  • The economy is a factor. Going to a conference is really expensive.
  • I think the time of year could be a factor. My sister’s kids are already going back to school in late August when the conference is happening.
  • The Sunday scheduling was a factor. This was a change from previous conferences having the classes end on Sunday and not the following week. Maybe that shifted how/when people were registering for things.
  • Honestly, I think the organizers offered too many sessions that looked too similar. There were several other “artist development” sessions that overlapped in some ways with what I was teaching. They were different topics if you read carefully, but at first glance I think they might look too similar.
  • I wasn’t teaching the flashy stuff. By teaching about how to sell your work or write a newsletter, I am not teaching the “fun” classes. There aren’t inspiring sample photos or projects to draw people in and I think that means they fall to the bottom of most people’s “must do” list.

I’m hoping this post helps provide some insight and transparency around what goes on behind the scenes from a teacher’s perspective and makes a tiny bit of that work I did into a post that might be an educational artist development experience for one of you!

Go to Top