TreeHouse was recently able to speak with cartoonist and illustrator Kelly Duke, whose art appeared as part of the ValleyCrest Art Show we reported on last week (see here for that post). Be sure to keep reading after our interview to check out images of Kelly’s amazing work and learn a bit more about his history and connection to the art world.

TreeHouse: Your work contains a fair number of pop culture references. When you were creating these strips and illustrations, did you primarily use current events as your inspiration?

Kelly Duke: Absolutely. But can think of very few cartoons that don’t rely in some way on cultural references. Note too that my works were all drawn in that period before personal computers and the Internet. Cultural references came from a relatively small number of communal sources such as movies, television, or print media. I could rely on images drawn from those sources being readily identifiable in a cartoon context.

TH: Explain to us a bit about your process in creating these pieces. How did you initially begin? Did you usually work on one piece/strip at a time or many of them at once?

KD: It was far more complicated than that. First of all I was attending college and working part time during most of that period. As such I would have to fit any drawing time into my over-arching work/eat/sleep/study/class schedule. Assignments from The Poly Post would require that I find time to meet a publishing deadline. Fortunately the paper was only twice a week in that era. Post assignments required that I grapple with a theme suggested by the paper or fill space with a work or a montage of works) centered on a theme of my choosing. Lastly, I had to allow for those moments when someone, something, or event struck me as cartoon-worthy and I would need to act quickly before my muse took it away.

My finished copies were all produced on drafting vellum with technical pens. For the strip I would have a pile of pre-made four panel blanks. I would start by sketching ideas on tissue for layout and proportion then refine those through tracing on to the vellum. My first pass on the vellum would use a non-repro blue pen. Then I would ink the final copies. Once the ink was sufficiently dry, I would shade with gray felt-tip art pens in lieu of an ink wash. The technique was clean and easy, but tough on the nostrils.

TH: You’ve mentioned to us that it’s been quite a while since you have created work like the cartoons and illustrations you had on display at the recent ValleyCrest art show. What would get you to return to this type of illustrating now? And if you did start again, what subjects do you think you would tackle?

KD: The prime ingredient would be sufficient time to sit and draw. While art it is not necessarily a perishable talent, one gets rusty and needs to get back into a groove. And I would like to explore different techniques. Understand that I did most of my early works with Rapidograph technical pens. Those pens are really designed for straight line drafting with consistent line weights. They lack the expressiveness of a quill pen or a brush. I would love to have some time to experiment with either of those tools. I would also need to learn how to do a better job of drawing women. I just never got that quite right.

As for inspiration; one cannot help but be inspired, at least in a cynical way, by what passes for celebrity, fashion, conspiracy theories, an over-reliance on technology, perversions of political rhetoric, ethical failings or leadership ineptitude, and a pervasive general indifference to our environment. There is no shortage of material in that regard  I would probably try to resurrect some of my cartoon strip characters, update them a bit, give them an identifiable real world setting, and try to craft some general plot lines around their lives into which I could weave timely / topical humor and cultural references that they could evoke or respond to.

TH: What do you feel is the correlation between your early interest and talent in cartooning/illustrating and the field of landscape design that you chose to make your career? How have those skills come into play throughout your career?

KD: Well, first of all I need to clarify that my career path has been one of a Landscape Cost Estimator. As such, my success is predicated on understanding the designs of others so that I can reasonably estimate what it will cost to build those designs. Having some artistic talent helps me in interpreting and understanding a designer’s intent in the absence of fully developed plans and specifications.

Otherwise, the two fields have not crossed paths much. There are times however: (1) in college I took a class of Landscape Architecture for non-Landscape Architecture majors. The class featured lectures and exercises often led by different L.A. faculty. One exercise in rendering, led by Rodney Tapp demonstrated the difference between shade and shadow which was an epiphany for me that profoundly influenced my cartooning when I switched to gray art markers to add depth to my sketches through shading in lieu of using ink pens and tedious cross-hatching techniques. (2) I occasionally use my sketch techniques to explain construction concepts to designers in a common graphic language.

Beyond that, my cartoons have more often been for my own merriment. If others have enjoyed them, well then that was even better.

Kelly Duke grew up in the south east corner of Apple Valley, California. The area was then, and remains today, a somewhat bleak patch of the Mojave Desert where, as a youth, he had to make his own entertainment. Duke’s entertainment of choice was art. Largely self-taught, Duke had little formal training beyond occasional public school classes (try finding one of those these days), and eventually a couple of courses at UCLA Extension under respected and prize winning illustrators, Matt Wuerker and Nancy O’Hanian.

Duke considers himself to be a “Closet Cartoonist.” He has sketched and cartooned and played at illustration since his earliest school days. The work posted here is part of the body of work created while attending California State Polytechnic University in Pomona, California where he insinuated himself into the staff of the campus paper “The Poly Post.”

Duke confides: “Cartooning accomplished two things in my life. Acceptance of my work by peers increased my self-confidence. At the same time, it also allowed me the security of being able to comment on a broad spectrum of topics in relative anonymity.”

“Cartooning for the Post forced me to take a more structured approach to cartooning and illustration in order to match art to stories and to complete projects on schedule,” says Duke. As for his media of preference, the majority of his efforts have been pen and ink shaded with gray-toned felt art pens. He has occasionally dabbled in pencil and has experimented with scratchboard.

Duke’s day job is to oversee a team of Pre-Construction Cost Estimators and Project Managers at ValleyCrest Landscape Development where he has worked for close to thirty years. “Cost estimating is a very schedule-driven profession, which leaves little free time for art,” says Duke. Nonetheless, the recent mounting of a retrospective of his college work at ValleyCrest Design Group’s annual Art Exhibition has sparked interest in returning to the drawing board.

Other than that, Duke likes long walks on the beach, kittens, poetry readings, classical music, and hot cocoa by the fireside.

“I find enjoyment in art by changing the typical life of an organism. An aesthetically pleasing form that allows for functioning living organisms to reside, develop, laugh, escape, or express. The true joy of my work resides in the life that is generated from my creation. The excitement develops once it is subjected to the environment; when the art work is no longer under my control, but under the control of insects, vegetation, mammals, seasons, and time.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               — Travis Gramberg

TreeHouse: Let’s talk a bit about the plants from your designs first. It seems that you tend towards using cacti and succulents. Is there a reason for that? And where do you buy or grow them? Do you keep them around to mature for a while or stick them right into the design once you have them?

Travis Gramberg: I enjoy using cacti, succulents, and epiphytes (air ferns) in my work mainly because of their unique sculptural qualities. Most of the plants I have are gifts from people; succulents and air ferns have that ability to be snapped from the mother plant and passed on to someone else. Because of this I usually have a handful of plants lying around that I am taking care of.  I live in an apartment so I really only try to keep around what I will be using. That being said, my patio is completely overcrowded with plant material. In some cases I have to shop specifically for the exact plant I need based on color, height, and water level. For example, in the mask “Rusty Mug” I had to drive to a number of different nurseries to find the right look for her eyes.

TH: How did you start creating your plant designs? What inspired you to begin your first project?

TG: My first “botanical sculpture” was created in my ceramics class at Cal Poly Pomona. I created a series of pots that were inspired by the shapes and patterns of succulents, and then I planted those succulents in these sculptures. I wanted to simplify the potted plant to one piece of work, a perfect unity between the pot and the plant. From there this concept of “living art” developed into an obsession for success covering various projects. My favorite part about using plants for art work is that the piece is never truly finished. The art is capable of growing, blooming, and dying.

TH: The planters you use are almost like works of art in themselves. Do you make them as well or are they found/purchased?

TG: I try to stay consistent with concept, materials, and process when creating a series of artwork, so it depends on the situation. Sometimes I am driven by vision and utilize a material to create it. A good example would be the “Botanical Pottery” pieces; I cut and shaped the artwork out of leftover scraps of polycarbonate plastic. These were leftover scraps from “The Water Diamond” installation I created at Cal Poly Pomona in 2011. I then coated the polycarbonate plastic in dyed resin. The two masks were found objects. While doing some yard work I broke a strawberry pot and it spun around and a face looked at me. I picked up the face and stored it in my room for about 6 months. Until one day, walking around on a job site, I stumbled upon an old emergency plane landing strip that had been mauled by a rototiller. I saw a face in it and was inspired to start a mask series. The broken strawberry pot and emergency landing strip eventually became the focal point for “Ugly Stick” and “Rusty Mug.” I think this was a long way of saying there is no real plan, I just roll with what material or goal I have.

TH: Tell us about your creation process: do ideas pop into your head and you set out to make them, or do the ideas come from viewing the plant and/or object first?

TG: Ideas pop into my head and I set out to make them. Sometimes I literally see the pieces in a dream, and in my dream I will be enviously looking at the art work wishing I had come up with it, and then I awaken and realize I did come up with that art piece. When creating “Living Art” I usually have the sculpture completed before I go looking for the right plant.  Very rarely do I create a sculpture because of a plant.

TH: Besides your living sculptures, you also sketch. You mentioned you started that back up while on a recent trip to Europe after a bit of a hiatus from drawing. What inspired you to do that – the travel? The places you visited?

TG: Travel definitely played a large role for me to start sketching again. While traveling I have a desire to jot down everything new I see; plus I am on vacation, which gives me ample time to draw. But overall I would say I wanted to get back into drawing as more of a discipline for myself. Many great teachers and mentors have reinforced the mindset that success to any artist starts with a strong concept of sketching and proportions. I practice composition, proportions, color theory, and personal style while I sketch. Sketching is a moment where I feel no pressure about the finished product, it is just fun. It is amazing the amount of inspiration I do get from traveling though, it is a necessity in my life.

TH: Is there anything about your position in landscape architecture that lends itself to the creation of your living sculptures? Do you find inspiration for your personal art within the designs you help create for clients?

TG: Yes, I truly do. What is great about my current position in landscape architecture is the amount of knowledge I can access within the company. My newest sculptures would not even be possible without the help from my coworkers. If I have any questions about plant material I can go to an expert across the office. I am very appreciative of how my profession is influencing my personal artwork and how my artwork influences my profession.

TH: Do you sell your work or have any plans to do so in the future?

TG: I do sell my artwork. Usually when someone approaches me about buying my artwork they truly love and desire to have it. I think that is the goal of creating, to pass something on to someone that will give them joy. I would not enjoy creating things if all of them ended up collecting dust in dark corners of my room. My biggest joy as an artist is visiting someone’s house that has purchased my art and seeing it almost for the first time again. It’s fun to go back into the time I was creating that piece of work and reflect on what was going on in my life.

View Travis’ online portfolio at http://issuu.com/teegee17/docs/siv.art.scapes/1 or follow him on Instagram at http://instagram.com/travgrams/.

We met Ashley Jessup a few months ago at the ValleyCrest Art Show, where she was one of the featured guest artists, and loved her work. Read our Q&A with her below, check out her work, and then keep reading for a bit of her background and to find out where you can view more of her work.

TreeHouse: Your work incorporates great use of rich colors and a lot of fine details, but what really seems to make it stand out is the shadowing built into it. Much of it gives off a dark vibe, regardless of the subject matter. Is that contrast something you strive towards when setting out or is it more an aspect that tends to emerge during the creation process?

Ashley Jessup: I think it’s both, really. Because I feel like the subject matter I work with is often so simple, I take extra care with black paint and titles to help establish the tone. But I also think that contrast derives from how I’ve approached drawing: since with graphite everything is monochromatic, I’ll try to put more distinction between the light and dark values and I’ll push the dark values further to really dramatize the image. So I suppose when I began painting, that characteristic from drawing transferred. Now I usually start a painting with focus on the shadows, and then I’ll work in the detail and color.

TH: Speaking of the creation itself, tell us about yours. Do you have rituals you follow or is every piece different? Why do you choose the mediums you use?

AJ: When it comes to paintings, I usually follow the same process for each work. I prefer to stretch my own canvases, a practice that was instilled in me by my college painting professor/mentor, Ben Bridgers. I think I’ve stuck with canvas for the most part because wood panels are a lot heavier, slicker, and temperamental.

Once I have the canvas ready and my idea finalized, I’ll make a few small final sketches and gather reference materials if necessary. Then I’ll start with a monochromatic underpainting and build up from there. I think I’ve stuck with oil paint because it’s really flexible and easy to layer. It’s such a limitless material. Plus the consistency is great.

I think the only other ritual might be the presence of music—I love music and have to have something playing while I paint that fits my mood.

TH: Most of your work that we’ve seen focuses on inanimate objects. How do you pick your subjects?

AJ: For the most part, it feels like my subjects pick me. I’ll usually have an image, idea, or phrase come into my mind and I’ll quickly sketch it out or write it down. Then if it’s something that I can’t stop thinking about, I’ll give it a space in my head and contemplate the image or idea for a little while more until I think I understand it. My subconscious mind can be very persistent in this way—sometimes relentless.

As for the focus on inanimate objects—there’s probably a few reasons for that. I really found painting to be a way to deal with problems, anxieties, or questions I was working through, so I think I’ve mostly focused on inanimate objects or more suspended still life imagery in the past because it’s easier for me to use objects as symbols to convey an emotion or idea without actually being literal. Personal metaphors, you know? Which has led to certain objects showing up again and again; reinterpreted symbols in a new context. Therefore I don’t have much practice in painting people, which has probably perpetuated their absence.

TH: Tell us about your start in art and where you see yourself as an artist and your work heading.

AJ: I’ve always been interested in creating things. When I was little I took art, sewing, and woodshop classes. My mom bought me calligraphy, origami, hand-lettering, and miniature item books; cross-stitching, painting, and flower-press kits. If there was a craft at school or in clubs, I was the last one working on it. I really cared about them. I was (and still am) really shy, so this was a way for me to express myself. I took drawing classes in high school, and when I got to college I decided I wanted to major in drawing—but painting was also a requirement. I was really nervous about trying a new and unfamiliar medium, but I quickly fell in love with oil painting. I still do graphite and ink drawings, too.

And as for now, I feel like I’m in a transition phase—in life and in my work. I think I put a lot of interests like painting and stuff in my life on hold for a few years when I was dealing with some difficult situations, and I’ve finally decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’m getting back to creating things. It’s a big step for me and I’m excited. I want to make larger and more intricate pieces—both paintings and drawings. I might take back everything I said and incorporate figures or portraits, too.

TH: How do you envision a finished product? With design and colors? Or does the work change and evolve during the process of creating it?

AJ: I usually begin a drawing or painting with the finished product in mind. Like I mentioned before, I have to really understand what the final image will look like and mean to me before starting. This involves everything from composition to color. If I don’t have a well-thought out idea, I’ve noticed I’m much more likely to abandon the project. It’s funny though—as I create something I always find that it contains many more layers of meaning for me than I originally thought. So, although the content may remain the same, I really go through a second process of understanding and unveiling.

TH: Some of your works almost remind us of tattoos. Is that intentional or a coincidence? Have you considered turning your work into body art?

AJ: I have actually had a number of people say that to me before—that they could see some of my work being reinterpreted into a tattoo. I don’t have any tattoos personally. I did have one friend ask me to draw a tattoo for them before, but we never got around to it. I’m not opposed to the idea, though.

TH: Any advice to budding artists that you would like to share?

AJ: I’m a very budding young artist myself! So I guess the advice I have to offer is the advice I give myself: stop over-thinking and just work. I know not everyone has an issue with this, but I don’t think I’m alone in it. I tend to dwell on a lot of things, especially the concept or role of “art” in general, but if you’re going to be productive you have to just keep moving forward and creating work you’re passionate about. As people, I think we get in our own way too much. Don’t let your love of creating get overshadowed by your fear of failing. Maybe you won’t be proud of everything you make, but don’t stop.

Ashley Jessup grew up in northern Orange County, CA. She graduated from the University of Redlands with a degree in both Studio Art: Painting and Drawing and Managerial Studies, and a Spanish minor (although her Spanish is completely out of practice). She currently resides in Costa Mesa where she paints and works for Trellis Works (trellisworks.com).

Some of her portfolio can be found online at ashleyjessuppaintings.tumblr.com, and you can follow her various escapades on Instagram @ayenjay. She also has a painting in the Irvine All Media 2015 juried show that runs August 22-October 24, 2015.

TreeHouse: You use a lot of color in your paintings. On your website, you mention that you like to place colors in natural settings where they’re not usually located. What attracts you to the surreal aspect of that?

Debby Bloom: I like to brighten things up—on purpose. Look where I live! In Anchorage, Alaska, some of us say, “We have two seasons—winter and not winter.” We get seven or eight months of varying degrees of cold, dark, and often dreary weather. I like to throw some curve balls into my paintings, like a metallic blue in the bark of a birch tree. Still a birch, but one that makes you wonder, is it real? I was always more given to impressionism over realism. I shoot for more “representational” than anything else.

TH: You’ve recently started dividing your time between Southern California, where you’re originally from, and your residence of Alaska. How has that affected your work?

DB: I grew up at the beach in Aptos near Santa Cruz, and while I live in Alaska (36 years now), I feel more at home in California. I enjoy the difference in environments that regular travel presents. I paint versions of what I see—birch trees in Alaska, oak trees in California, bears and otters in Alaska, cows and horses at the ranch. My same style, applied to different subjects. Alaska and California are very different in their landscapes, but my experiences in each place have enhanced my work as a painter.

TH: Your work seems to include a variety of mediums. Tell us about how you decide what to use on any one painting. For example, your aspens: the ones we’ve viewed all appear to use watercolors. Is there something about certain subjects that you feel lends themselves more to a specific type of paint or creation process?

DB: Each painting starts as something to explore, no matter the medium. I paint trees and landscapes in either watercolor or acrylics. I prefer to paint my animals in acrylics. Trees in watercolor emerge differently than in acrylics. Watercolors are less viscous and blend on their own. They cannot really be reworked. Forget repairing a watercolor gone wrong! Acrylics are opaque and applied in layers that cover others, so if you don’t like something, just paint over it.  Each medium can provide a different look and feel to perhaps the same subject. Below are two paintings of trees: a watercolor (11×15”) and an acrylic (2×4’).

TH: Some of the descriptions of your work seem to incorporate environmental activism. Is that a goal with your art?

DB: Well, that might be true—unintentional, but true. Alaska is wild, expansive and untamed in both her landscapes and people. There, the extremes are up close and personal. Wherever we are, we live in and among our natural surroundings, integral with our environment.

Before I came to paint full-time, I had a long career in public relations. Along with more recent work in the private sector, I served under four governors, a few house representatives and a U.S. senator. Back in the 90s, I was a public spokesperson for the Alaska Department of Environmental Conservation. It was there that I came to better understand the complicated issues surrounding economic development and environmental protection.

TH: As your website indicates, you’re more than happy to get involved with your audience, buyers, and fans. How do you feel doing so helps your creativity?

DB: I don’t know that it helps my creativity as much as it is fun to interact with people and to share an appreciation of art. I enjoy workshops as much as I do going to a buyer’s home to help hang a painting. To deliver a commission and see their faces at the first glance is simply exhilarating. I love to paint and when someone connects with my work and wants it in their home, I feel a tremendous sense of pride and gratitude. In turn, that sends me back to my studio with a lift and desire to discover what else might show up on a canvas.

TH: We live in a world where everything is virtually documented and shared instantly, and almost everyone has a handful of social media accounts. How do you feel the fast pace of our lifestyles has affected art? Especially your art and the methods you go through to sell your work? Does it make it harder or easier to make a living as an artist?

DB: I see media as opportunity. For anyone in today’s marketplace, it is essential to expand one’s business network. The prospect of so many outlets can be overwhelming, but well-chosen media can offer avenues to reach audiences that were before unavailable.

For me, the challenge is to find the media outlets and venues that best extend my reach. We need to target our audiences. Less “tech-savvy” people don’t use social media as much. Others only use social media. The bottom line is to find ways to bring more eyes to our work and products. That said, for the visual arts, there is no substitute for in-person shows and meetings with potential buyers. Media helps reach people, but the goal is to bring them in! That is where we shine.

For more information or to reach the artist, visit http://debbybloom.com/. Follow her on Twitter at https://twitter.com/bgdbloom.

More about the artist, Debby Bloom

Welcome to the world as seen through my eyes— and paint brushes.

As an artist, I am intrigued by color and using them where they may

not normally be found in nature. Especially in Alaska, where vistas are

grand and extreme, my paintings embrace the boldness of a life spent

on the edges.

I live and work in Anchorage, Alaska. Alaska is a perfect place for a

painter. From the warm and almost endless light of summer to the

bitter cold and dark of winter, the range of elements and landscapes

provide endless inspiration. With earthquakes, volcanoes, extreme

temperatures (and a couple of kids), life here could never be called

“uneventful.”

Originally from Santa Cruz, California, I have lived in Alaska for over 30

years. The sparkling environment, stunning beauty, depth of Native

cultures and bizarre politics have provided a formidable place to work

(in public relations/communications for public and private entities) and

raise a family. It is indeed an extraordinary life.

Along with painting, I am at my best when with my boys, cooking,

writing, playing golf, or on a travel adventure.

The TreeHouse editors had the great pleasure of interviewing Edinburgh-based musician James Radcliffe. He provided insights about his music, his devoted followers, and his amazing ability to support himself solely through his music.  According to his site jamesradcliffe.com, “Radcliffe is a 100% listener supported independent musician, writer, and artist. He has been writing and performing publicly since the tender age of 8. He has played in a diverse collection of situations, including (but not limited to): punk bands, jazz groups, orchestra, brass bands, outreach programs for charity, solo, and many, many more. He has performed in: coffee houses, rock clubs, jazz venues, front rooms, concert halls, theaters, and on the street in an ever-growing list of countries. James writes, records, mixes, and masters all of his own music in his home studio. His music and writing are now downloaded, listened to, and read in over 170 countries around the globe. In Jan 2014 he released an independent album of original music. More recently he released: ‘Invocation‘; a single created exclusively with layered acoustic cello and voice. He believes very strongly in ethical business, and 10% of all profits from his work are donated to a charity which: feeds, houses, clothes and educates orphaned children in Nepal.”

TreeHouse: On your site, you explain that you are “a 100% listener supported independent musician, writer, and artist.” How does that description drive your music?

James Radcliffe: It doesn’t really drive my music at all. The music and the art drives itself, I have no real say in it, I just follow where it leads.

The ‘100% listener supported’ moniker is more to do with the business side of what I do. It lets people know that I am doing this 100% independently, that every sale makes a difference, and that, when they buy the music, the money is going directly to me and not thru a middle man.

TH: From where do you derive inspiration to create your music?

JR: From everywhere. It’s very unconscious for me. I have the impression that I soak things in, and connect to deeper part of me when I write, play, or make records. Everything contributes to it. All of the thing that is my life.

TH: Who are your listeners? How do they typically find you and your work?

JR: My listeners are very cool people. I would say that, for a long time people came to my work thru my blog (jamesradcliffe.com) and, now that it’s grown, it’s a combination of that, twitter, and good old fashioned word of mouth.

TH: Do you often play in public to promote your music?

JR: I do play live, but not really to promote my music, more to create something with other people. Music with a crowds’ attention is a totally different beast.

I haven’t played live for a little while and am starting to feel the hunger, so will be touring very, very soon!

TH: On the page in which listeners can purchase “Present: Reflections,” you mention, “10% of all profits go to a charity that: houses, feeds, clothes, and educates orphaned children in Nepal.” What made you choose that particular philanthropic goal?

JR: I knew people who had volunteered with the charity for extended periods, and just really love the work that they do. It’s quite small, which gives you a very deep connection with each child. The fact that, when people buy my music, it makes the world a little bit better makes me very happy indeed.

TH: What kinds of strategies do you employ to promote your work?

JR: I’m not sure you could call anything I do a ‘strategy’, but there are some things that I am conscious of. I make sure that, if I put anything out, whether it be music, or writing, or even a tweet, that it’s of quality, and has value. I am very conscious of not wasting my audience’s attention, (which I think is a commodity of far greater value than money). I also strive to be as authentic as I can be. I’m not sure how good I am at any of it, but I do know that I am getting better.

TH: Who are your blog readers? Do they often connect with you through comments? How important is it to you to correspond with readers/listeners?

JR: My blog readers are my people!

Yes, they often connect with me thru comments, tweets and emails. Some of my posts have 500+ comments, so my audience is varied. I think it’s vitally important to connect and interact with my guys. They are my tribe and they are the real reason that I get to do what I love for a loving. Plus, they are all pretty damn cool people. I have made some really good friends thru my work.

Another reason that the people who buy my music are so awesome (and one of the reasons I can do this as a viable living) is because they pay WAY over the odds for my music.

For example, this E.P. has a minimum price of £3, yet many of my audience have chosen to pay much more, some up to £50 (around $90) for this digital download, which is incredible.

TH: Was it a massive leap of faith for you to choose music as your career? (What were you doing professionally before? Or what else do you now professionally?)

JR: No, not at all. I always wanted to do this and (for better or worse) have always had a kind of ‘Burn the ships so the only way is onward!’ style of doing things. There was no Plan B for me, and giving up is just not an option. I was going to make it work or die trying.

TH: Finally, what advice would you offer to those who seek to follow in your musical footsteps?

JR: I would say: ‘Do not try and follow in my footsteps, instead, work on finding your own path. Don’t rush. It’s more important to be authentic than to be first. Make sure that this is what you want to do and, if it truly is, do not stop. Do not give up. Keep going, and, one day, the world will roll at your feet.’

On his site, Radcliffe explains that he “believes that creating things that have value and are as true and real as possible, and then sharing those things with others, is a mission worthy enough to dedicate his whole life to.”

Buy Radcliffe’s single Invocation here.

Check out Radcliffe’s latest EP.

Read more about James Radcliffe’s thoughts on his success.

TreeHouse recently had the pleasure of interviewing poet and author Anna Leahy about her incredibly busy life and successful work as a poet, writer, director, and professor. Anna Leahy is the co-author of the nonfiction book Generation Space: A Love Story (Stillhouse Press, 2017) and the poetry chapbook Sharp Miracles (Blue Lyra Press, 2016). She and Douglas R. Dechow write Lofty Ambitions blog. See more at  http://amleahy.com.

TreeHouse: You teach in both the MFA and BFA programs at Chapman University, are the Director of their Office of Undergraduate Research and Creative Activity and the Associate Director of the their MFA program, oversee the Tabula Poetica Reading Series, edit the international journal TAB, are a board member of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs, run the Lofty Ambitions blog, write numerous articles, and probably participate in a million other things I’m not mentioning. How do you find the time to do it all? And what about your personal writing – where does that fit into your schedule?

Anna Leahy: I wrote a piece for Minerva Rising’s website a while back about saying yes and saying no, and this balance continues to be a struggle day to day and as I plan for the longer term. Someone had advised me early on in my career to wait 24 or even 48 hours before replying to anyone’s request to do something. One semester, I decided never to check my email before noon, and, though I tend to write better later in the day, it was amazing how that allowed me to write before my brain got involved in other tasks (and how it slowed the back and forth of email). I’m only sporadically good at following that good advice, but it helps.

It also helps to have great colleagues. Professor Jim Blaylock directs the MFA and handles most of the program logistics; Professor Claudine Jaenichen serves as Creative Director for TAB, which has been exciting for both of us and has led to offshoot collaborations; and Lisa Kendrick coordinates OURCA on a daily basis. They are all smart, hard working, and ambitious, and we each understand the other is also juggling other responsibilities. While I’ve been able to choose rewarding responsibilities and tasks, I’m at my limit at this point (though I’ve probably thought this before), in part because there’s a toll for switching gears among disparate tasks hour to hour and day to day. You’re right that choosing to take on other responsibilities—no matter how great they are—means, at some point, less writing time.

It’s difficult for me—for most writers, probably—to make writing time sacred. Books like The ONE Thing are good reminders, and, to some extent, I schedule writing time. Deadlines help me, too. Neil Gaiman, in a commencement speech, suggested that a writer can build a career by doing good work, be easy to work with, and produce work on time—and that two out of three is okay.

TH: Tell us a bit about your writing process: where do your ideas come from? And how do you go about turning that inspiration into reality? Do the various settings you find yourself in affect your work in different ways?

AL: I’m amazingly productive during writing residencies, which makes sense. Dorland Mountain Arts Colony doesn’t have wifi, and I’m removed from my daily routine and usual physical spaces. It’s impossible to replicate that experience at home or on the job, but that sort of compartmentalization and focus is a great goal.

Steven Johnson wrote a book called Where Good Ideas Come From, which draws from a lot of others’ research into concepts like serendipity and the slow hunch. Especially when I’m writing regularly, I have more ideas than I can manage, though I can’t pinpoint where they come from. The hard part is doing something with an idea, turning ideas into something until you find one that works well enough to keep working on. Writers risk failure because not every idea is worth pursuing, and we often don’t find that out until we’ve pursued it a while. So it’s good to keep generating new ideas and variations on ideas.

TH: Do you share your writing with anyone in particular prior to publication? A writing group, community of writers, or trusted colleague?

AL: Some of my writing projects are collaborative. My husband and I wrote Generation Space: A Love Story together, so we’ve shared all of it through many drafts. What We Talk about When We Talk about Creative Writing, which I edited, was co-written chapter by chapter with a host of contributors. I’m also writing a book about cancer communication with Dr. Lisa Sparks.

I have projects all my own, too, and I sometimes share those with long-time writer-friends. Nancy Kuhl and I went to graduate school together and now read through each other’s complete poetry manuscripts every few years. I was in a writing group for five years; it’s up and running again without me, though I may rejoin after I wrap up a couple of projects this year. I’ve developed some great writer-friendships in school and on the job.

TH: In her article “Contemporary Poetry’s Influence on Cross-Cultural Perceptions,” writer Kristina S. Ten states: “It is through the fine arts, particularly literature and perhaps even more specifically poetry, that people can find the human connection they are often unable to establish in their everyday lives. When it comes to addressing the misperceptions of any given culture, sometimes all it takes for readers to understand that a cultural misperception exists is for the author or poet to take the narrative perspective of either the “self” (the local, the citizen, the familiar) or the “other” (the foreign, the unknown, the misrepresented or misunderstood).” Do you agree with her? Does the poetry of today help to influence our own human experience, and if so, how do we strengthen that connection by utilizing poetry as a tool to unite understanding across cultures?

AL: Poetry—using language, sound, metaphor, and so on—is one of the most human things we do, so it makes sense that it’s a place or time to understand our connections and differences as individuals and as cultures. My stance is that such connection or exploration is an inevitable effect of fine poetry, that the self is always already there in the writing and the reader always already finds relative proximity or distance. I heard Illinois Poet Laureate Kevin Stein compare poetry to music, in that not every listener likes every type of music and not all songs are equally meaningful to a given person, but a given poem may make a world of difference to someone or stick with a particular reader.

TH: What are you reading for pleasure right now?

AL: I had a piece on the Brevity blog recently about selfish reading that made me realize I’m always reading as a writer. It’s pleasurable, but it’s rare that I read something without thinking about what I can learn as a writer. Right now, I’m reading Zoe Zolbrod’s memoir The Telling and Patrick Ryan’s story collection The Dreamlife of Astronauts. I plan to review the latter, and I’d suggest emerging writers review more of what they’re reading. That can heighten the pleasure of reading in a nerdy way.

TH: You have a new book coming out February 2017 called Generation Space: A Love Story. Can you tell us a bit about it? How long have you been working on it? Where can we read it?

AL: My husband and I went to Florida for the last launch (which was delayed) of the space shuttle Discovery in November 2010. By the time we witnessed the last launches of Endeavour and Atlantis the following year, we knew we were writing a book, part memoir and part cultural and historical commentary. Generation Space will be published by Stillhouse Press and available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble as well as from the publisher. As I answer these questions, we’re coordinating with the editor on final tinkering at the sentence level and looking at book cover designs. This project has been incredibly important to us, and I hope the book will resonate with a lot people who grew up with the Shuttle program humming in the background of their lives.

TH: Do you have any advice for those of us who aspire to be more creative?

AL: Encourage your curiosity broadly and deeply. I’ve written before about curiosity, and that’s among the most important things for me to cultivate in my students. It’s not bad for a writer, especially one who writes in more than one genre, to have a lot of interests and questions, a general openness to and excitement about learning. Curiosity is likely what allows a writer to finish that novel to find out exactly how scenes unfold or allows the poet to try out new forms and new phrases. Curiosity is like peripheral vision; it fosters serendipity. It’s no coincidence that the most ambitious Mars rover to date is named Curiosity and that it’s far exceeded its original mission plan.

Anna Leahy is the co-author of the nonfiction book Generation Space: A Love Story (Stillhouse Press, 2017) and the poetry chapbook Sharp Miracles (Blue Lyra Press, 2016). She and Douglas R. Dechow write Lofty Ambitions blog. See more at  http://amleahy.com.

TreeHouse: A few months ago you started writing your novel 29 BBQs using the website JukePop, which offers authors the opportunity to publish their work online one chapter at a time, via the annual Summer Writing Project collaboration between 1888 and JukePop. JukePop writers attract readers who can offer their support and comments about the unfolding storylines, which gives authors the ability to shape and mold the stories they tell based on readers’ opinions. What made you interested in entering a project that involved a site such as JukePop? Considering the similarities, did your experience in creative writing workshops influence your decision at all?

Jonelle Strickland: Good feedback is hard to find. Period. Actually, because each reader is unique–and even a single reader’s tastes can vary over a lifetime–JukePop and site likes it–Wattpad, I’ve been told, is the more famous one–help to fill in these gaps in readers’ tastes, really quite simply, by leveraging all of them, so that an author or a writer can take what she will. JukePop offers free beta readers who are able and willing to read your work without your having to cough up a small fortune that you, as an emerging writer, probably don’t have. For me, having gone through an MFA program in Creative Writing several years ago, I knew that I wanted to continue receiving feedback on my writing in its earliest stages. I don’t know a single writer who just spits out their best work and, voila, the audience is stunned–well, maybe Kerouac–or maybe not, as telling details now reveal entries in Kerouac’s diary that span several years, along with early drafts of On the Road, which was rumored to have been completed in its entirety in just three short weeks; such rumors are now further debunked by the fact that Kerouac was corresponding with editors and shopping for an agent for over a more than three-year period. Spontaneous? I think not.  JukePop, and sites like it, simply takes away the illusion that authors are infallible creators who can put together a polished product without even stopping to go the bathroom. I am grateful for the humility that JukePop can bring to an author of any standing. And, of course, it is a very democratic process to involve the readers in the outcome of the story, but it’s not a new process.  Audience participation is a tradition that literally goes back thousands of years–in fact, I don’t think it was until the Renaissance that people in the Western Canon really started to care about taking ownership of their work by a single individual. Stories were yarns that people spun around a fire, in a tavern, wherever, and yes, occasionally, some bloke called “Homer” (although that is also up for debate) and a few other “classics” got to become the frontrunners.

TH: Do you consider your involvement in the Summer Writing Project a continuation of your creative writing education? How do you feel workshop sessions such as these can help keep the writing process for former or current students who have come to enjoy and rely on a structured, social atmosphere in order to create?

JS: First, no human being lives in a vacuum. There was a boy in a bubble once, but even that environment was filtered, not isolated. When I was a younger writer, I needed complete silence and large chunks of time–usually hours, sometimes days —once I even quit my job and dropped out of a graduate program so that I could have an entire month to myself, locked up in a room with my thoughts and my legal pad. Sometimes artists need the time and space to be able to process and put down our ideas, but other times, we need community. We need to surround ourselves with the people who can remind us that there’s absolutely nothing criminal or psychotic about wanting to tell a good story. In the early days, I think my family worried about me–“come out of your room,” they used to say, the therapist’s number in the back of their pockets. And now that I have a family of my own, I can definitely see their point, although it’s been a long time since I’ve found myself writing in isolation. Back then, I don’t think I trusted myself enough to open up my writing before the scrutiny of others. Even in workshops, I’d already scrubbed a piece down to what I thought was the bone, which really was doing myself a disservice–because it’s hard to change something you’ve already plucked and plucked. Nowadays, I realize the benefit of early intervention. In this particular piece, 29 BBQs, I think it was around chapter five or so, that a reader who said he was, more or less, enjoying Carol come alive on the page, gave me the opportunity to further develop Carol’s counterpart, Kyle. I didn’t even realize that either character might be underdeveloped because I didn’t even realize that either character was going to become a central viewpoint character. I don’t think that it’s cheating to give early readers a chance to tell you what your story needs or what matters to your characters; personally, I think it’s cheating to go through life with our eyes closed, pretending that we’re just one character.

TH: You mention in an interview with 1888 that 29 BBQs is 8 years in the making. Tell us a bit about the storyline and your future plans for it.

JS: 29 BBQs started May 28th in South Korea, so maybe it was May 27th in the States? This was 2016. I was having a conversation with Krys Lee at the university where she teaches, Yonsei–a campus so beautiful that I’d like to think I could have come home bustling with ideas after talking only to the trees and great halls.  But I happened to be talking with Krys, the author of Drifting House and soon-to-released How I Became a North Korean.  She’s pretty famous, and I could hardly believe that she was even talking to me, sitting next to me on a bench, buying me iced tomato juice–which is pretty good, by the way. Then she started laughing. We were discussing some people and situations that I’d been privy to at the beach. She casually mentioned that I should write those stories down, or at least be doing something with the material that I was sharing. The Summer Writing Contest, put out by the folks at 1888, was about to start in a couple of days. I’d created an account the previous month, but I didn’t have my story until I started writing it. Then I had chapter one. That’s all. By chapter sixteen, my epilogue, only then did I realize that I’d been carrying around the character of Marv all along.  I knew when I wrote the closing scene that Marv was actually a preliminary character, Kal, whose story I had tried–and failed–to capture in my early days as a graduate student in creative writing. That story, unpublished except in the manila envelope that I’d sent to the Orange Country Director of Homeless Services, curiously enough the only other time I’ve attempted to write a novella, followed the protagonist backward on his journey from bum on the beach to happily married husband learning that he has just became a widower. It was called In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb, but readers could also literally turn the book over and read the work backwards under a similar but different title, In Like a Lamb, Out Like a Lion. I’d met the man who ending up influencing the development of my central character only once and really just briefly during a Count-the-Homeless survey in, I want to say 2008, but it may have been 2007? He said the reason he was out on the streets was simple. “After my wife died, I just couldn’t go home.” It’s a story that needs to be told, and retold, I think, until enough people can get it through our heads–probably covered by a roof right now–that homelessness is a problem that affects everyone, even the savvy businessman. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve encountered–myself included–who can chock up a person’s dire circumstances to his repeated choice to become an addict. Usually, in less than a minute, we all tell ourselves that same shamble of a story, more broken than the man we’re often judging. And maybe that is someone’s story. Or maybe it’s just easier to tell ourselves that’s everyone’s story. They chose it themselves. They don’t want to be helped. We’re wasting our time, our money…but it’s not always the right story. It wasn’t this man’s story, and I would add to that, after meeting this absolute stranger on his bike with his dog in a park, we probably are wasting something else by not helping; by just standing by, we are wasting our soul.

TH: You wrote part of 29 BBQs while traveling across Korea and Thailand with your husband and two young children. An obvious question is how did you manage your time between creation and caregiving while still taking in the sights, but also: how did the immersion into other cultures while writing influence your work?

JS: Ha, ha. It wasn’t easy. Because I was traveling, I wrote the majority of 29 BBQs in transit. In a cab in Krabe, in an airport in Bangkok–sometimes I had the luxury of writing in my hotel room while my one-year-old was taking a nap, but that also depended on what my two-year-old was doing. Thankfully, we had some extended family with us, which helped with the logistics. The writing of this book simply wouldn’t have been possible without a husband, grandparents, and an aunt and an uncle. I think my favorite writerly moment was somewhere in Northern Thailand, just outside of Chang Mai, where the road was particularly windy, and for the first time in my life, I became car sick–probably because I was writing in the back of a van. Needless to say, a ginger tablet was offered, and I took it. Then I went back to finishing my chapter. To your second point about the influence of my travels on the words themselves, well, I think that any reader could figure that out the answer to that question is yes. One of my lead characters, a foster child, ends up being from Thailand, and that scene when he’s remembering himself in an orange robe, praying with the other child monks, well, that’s probably what I was seeing in the day or so before I wrote the scene. Similarly, one of the Mexican officers, sir name Jimenez, ends up letting Marv go with a suspicious looking trailer, which turns out to be…no spoilers here! Anyway, the reason the officer lets Marv go is that he has a mother-in-law whose last impression is the kimchee she cooked before she died; needless to say, this is all happening around the time when I am sampling the best pickled vegetables I’ve ever had in a Korean noodle shop with no English and no chairs–everyone eats on the floor. And so in my story, yes it’s a bottle of the same pickled veggies sticking out of the tent where… again, you’ll have to read it if you want to know more. But in the end, it’s all there. My literal travels, my intellectual travels, and my subconscious travels, which are my favorite kind, by the way, to discover in my writing.

TH: Our culture is becoming increasingly more dependent on platforms that offer instant gratification, while our definition of “instant” has become a lot quicker. Live streaming and tweeting, auto responses, immediate potential date matches, same day delivery, the list is endless. How do you see a site like JukePop playing into this phenomenon?

JS: This has been my favorite question to answer so far. Maybe it’s because I married an information analyst, then I’m suddenly interested in the ways we consume data, and the ways it consumes us. But anyhow, I do enjoy the deep analysis that goes with understanding an entire system, a cultural change, if you will, that we are undergoing within our own lifetimes, a change from “I carry a prepaid ten-minute emergency only cell phone in the trunk of my car” to “I really want to pull over because if I don’t I’m going to miss that important reply to someone’s Facebook update.” Strange to even think about what might come next. All this being said, I don’t think of Jukepop, or the process of producing a work in serial installments, as so much a facet of the instant gratification culture as it is an attempt to challenge, or at least question, the viability of a hierarchical, don’t call us, we’ll call you culture. What I mean by this is it’s hard being a writer, journalist, or anyone who wants to advance his artistic career without first developing the right connections, along with the craft.  Picture this. A foster care high school drop-out finally works up the courage to tell her story–and a damn good one too, a story that needs to be told–but she never had the aunt who was the agent, the friend’s cousin’s coworker who was the editor, nor a group of early supporters and mentors, not even a cohort of readers who could build her up with what was or wasn’t working in her creative writing classes. She wasn’t in creative writing classes. She was in a holding cell for teens that are in line for their trials determining if they’ll be going to juvey (juvenile hall) or back to their foster families. Where can she learn? Where can she attract the readers who can tell her when her story is compelling and when to take it further: JukePop is where I discovered just such a story, Runaway, a memoir written by Eliza Knightly. Now I’ve read the reviews for these kind of sites, some of them pretty terrible, suggesting that perhaps not every Dick or Jane deserves the credit of being called a writer or even the opportunity to learn how. The sites are further faulted for providing a platform for self-indulgence, poor writing, shallow reviews, and insanely divergent comments. So? The platform is still in its infancy. The readers, I’m proud to say, aren’t just those of us who’ve had the luxury of time, money, or drive– a compendium of suggestions that we like to think of as our own character by the time we’re reaching adolescence—although I like to think that we, “privileged folk,” are making a sizeable appearance too. Some of my readers, I know for a fact, aren’t the people who normally read fiction or who read, period.  “This is my first book since high school,” writes a successful middle-aged business man. “I tend to read medical literature, not fiction” writes another zealous medical professional. “I didn’t know books could be funnier than television…”. What the literary community should and hopefully does recognize while sites such as Jukepop and Wattpad continue to grow and evolve is that readers and writers will evolve too. It’s like the Internet; at first there were only a few…but then what happened? In other words, we’ll all get better together, but, at the same time, one thing will be different and that’s this: there will now be more of us who aren’t afraid to try.

Jonelle Strickland is a wife, mother, pet chicken owner, and daily writer. Formerly the Academic Director of Innovate Learning Center, Jonelle now divides her time between the education of her two young daughters and supporting her students as a freelance tutor. Jonelle remains active in her local Rotary Club, raising funds and awareness about homelessness, and other issues affecting our local and global communities. Coincidentally, she wrote the first half of 29 BBQs while traveling to and from the International Rotary Convention in Seoul, South Korea. Jonelle holds an MA in English and MFA in Creative Writing from Chapman University, degrees that she chose to pursue after translating Greek and Latin poetry as an undergraduate at Oxy, which, go figure, turned out to be really hard. Her essays, fiction, and verse have appeared in Sage of Consciousness, Elephant Tree, and 1888. 29 BBQs, a Summer Writing Project finalist, is her first comedy.

TreeHouse:  You work in a few different art mediums, including mixed media, photography, poetry, and fiction – just to name a few. Did you start out creating in just one of them and then moved over to the other genres or have you always worked in all of them? Is there one medium that you tend to focus on more than the others?

Lorette Luzajic: I like to say that the whole world is my palette. Whether it’s a pack of Crayola on hand or a stack of old Popular Mechanics, I’m going to create something. I’m excited by the variety of human creativity and feed off of that.

I did start out on poetry and short fiction. For the longest time I knew I would be a writer. I enjoyed making a lot of different things, but making art seriously as a career was something of a surprise. I even tried to get practical with my writing and studied journalism in university. But I got hooked on collage doing a project, and immediately saw the excitement of adding more materials to my cut and paste.

As for photography, it was always an interest as a part of art history, which is a major passion for me- it’s essential for me to see how others saw the world, to see what other eras and cultures produce and value, to see aesthetic and interpretive changes and experiments and ideas. I started taking my own pictures thinking I would cut them up- this way, the “whole world” could literally be my collage base, even if I found a texture on a real wall, not a picture of that wall in a magazine. I could snap everything my eyes registered and freeze it, then snip and splice to my heart’s content.

As it turned out, I almost never do that. My passion for collecting images found a different kind of outlet this way, one I didn’t cut into pieces. Freezing these spare moments of colour or contrast or emotion or portrait was teaching me to look deeper still and see even more. The excitement I have for “muchness” and “lots” is totally satisfied in the digital age when I can load a cacophony of hundreds of images onto my screen and sort and search to my heart’s content. But in the end, it’s all about that one image, isolated for a moment and contemplated. It’s the most restrained, minimalist, spare work I do. But it’s still “mixed media” in a way, because I’m showing you that poetry is all around.

TH:  You sell your work on Etsy (https://www.etsy.com/shop/LorettesArt) – how has your experience been with them? Would you recommend the site as a lucrative platform for artists looking to showcase and sell their work?

LL: My weakness is a common one- I try to do everything, be everywhere, want to try everything, see how everything works. I might find a platform a lot more lucrative if I focused on one with some consistency and a marketing plan! No, Etsy is not lucrative in and of itself. My sporadic sales there are just a mirror reflection of my sporadic attention to the platform. “Be more consistent on Etsy” is on that running list of goals and things to do that carries over into every new day timer! But I have reached and sold some work to an audience that didn’t see me anywhere else.

Etsy has a few amazing advantages that creative people really should make use of. One, the price is right. You can’t beat not paying out fifty percent commission to a gallery, and you can’t beat a .25 cent listing. Second, it’s secure. Etsy is taking care of transactions. If you don’t have a shopping cart on your website, you actually do have this access to a shopping cart, this way. Three, people are browsing Etsy because they want handmade, creative items. The platform was literally designed for crafters and artisans and small business creatives and smart ones have used it to make small business big business. I hope I’ll evolve to that!

TH:  You are an editor for The Ekphrastic Review. Tell us a bit about that.

LL: In July 2015 I launched The Ekphrastic Review as another way to bring together my love for both art and writing. I was involved in the past with some now defunct online arts journals and really missed the work and connection, but I knew the world really didn’t need another general poetry journal online. I wanted something meaningful that would strike a need and a niche and bring great writers together, but something that would have longevity. One of the ways I keep my creative writing fresh is by writing about art, and I saw that there were a few ekphrastic projects out there, but not much.

When I opened the blog, I committed to the long term. I said to myself, no, Lorette, you’re not going to start a journal that closes a year later. I knew these things can take a lot of time and the best of intentions can’t keep up with the reality. So I decided it would be an ongoing project, but I would not let it stress me. If I had a lot of time one week, great. If weeks went by and I did nothing, fine. I would have no expectations and go with the flow, when I could. I really thought I would receive the odd poem and have twelve readers. Turns out, a lot of writers are using visual art for inspiration, and looking for an outlet. And many more want to be challenged and develop an ekphrastic writing practice, or play with art prompts occasionally for variety. We are getting top notch submissions, we have a roster of writers who are getting to know each other online and care about each other and support each other’s successes. And we have about six thousand readers a month! I love it!

TH:  You were recently invited to a two-week symposium and exhibition in North Africa, which you mentioned will be your first serious international event. First off, congratulations on that accomplishment. Tell us about the event: where in Africa is the event taking place and what type of art does the exhibition showcase? Are you excited about exploring the area? Have you found that your environment influences your work in any other traveling you’ve done?

LL: I’m very excited about heading to Tunisia next month to work with thirty other artists from around the world. We will be creating together and learning from each other and enjoying new cultural experiences. I’m very excited about working somewhere else- I have always wanted to try working in another country and see what transpires. I tried to paint when I went to Mexico City last year, but was so busy seeing everything! Mexico got under my skin and continues to inspire my work to this day, in all kinds of ways, writing, poetry, photography, collage. But going somewhere expressly for the purpose of working creatively there is different altogether, and I’m really excited.

I knew nothing at all about Tunisia before this and the chance to expand in an unexpected direction is amazing. I’m learning about artists who have gone there- Canadian landscape painter James Wilson Morrice, Paul Klee. There’s a vital art scene there today, I’m finding out, with Tunisian youngsters pushing boundaries in music and graffiti. The aesthetic of the land and people looks just beautiful, too. I can’t wait to experience it firsthand.

TH:  Do you have any advice to share with those just starting out in the arts or artists who would like to make a living creating their art?

LL: My honest advice whenever I’m asked this question is, “forget it.” I’m serious. Find other work you’re good at and build your skills there. Focus on family. Live each day.

You might find that incongruous with the fact that everything I do seeks to inspire others to creativity. I want everyone to experience the joy of making art or writing.

The issue is that a lot of the joy goes out of it when you have that “making a living” part to worry about. The idealized, romantic image we hold of the life of an artist is one I had, too, but it looks different on this side of things. A lot different.

I survived the tortured artist part of my life, and I’m lucky. And there’s supposed to be a redemption story at the end of that, how art heals and fixes and gives you meaning. And it does. But it’s an uphill struggle in every way. And it can be lonely.

I feel extraordinarily lucky to spend my days creating. But there are times I honestly wish I had studied physiotherapy or fast food management. The stuff of everyday life, the bustle, the basics, are out there, and I’m in here. It means a lot when someone is touched by your work, but that will happen even if your art practice is a weekend thing. Most of my days are spent picking up and delivering art from one venue to another on public transit since I can’t afford a car. Or filling out proposals or forms, or writing checks for booth rentals that might be pissing in the wind, or praying I sell something and fast because I need art supplies.

If you have a good job, you can enjoy the thrill of splurging at the craft shop without feeling sick to your stomach. You don’t feel the pressure to “make this a good one” because it has to sell. You can share your projects with friends and family and enjoy a sale or two as easy bonus money. A lot of creative work is volunteer work. You have to be fine with this fact.

I am so grateful for the gifts I’ve been given. But if you can do something else, then do so. Do this for love, not money.

If you can’t help yourself, I understand. Then welcome to my beautiful nightmare.