dreamer, artist, unconventional life coach, business strategist
Recently I shared with someone how when I was starting Mariposa Strategies my instinct was to host a workshop as my very first thing even though a business person told me to first get good at working with people 1:1.
I didn't care because (a) when I have an idea I have to fly with it, and (b) it's what I've always done — create experiences. From concerts in Manhattan to remote celebrity weddings to private client retreats, I've been creating experiences for more than 20 years.
In November Matt and I devoted a couple days to visioning and planning, and I knew that gathering people would continue be core to my work — like, for the rest of my life.
But, this isn't the precise moment where The Emerging Artist Retreat in New Mexico came from.
This is...
A few weeks after Matt and I mapped life and work stuff, a very clear idea emerged: I wanted to host a retreat for artists like me this year.
People who never felt totally in touch with their creativity. People whose art or creative dreams have been shit on by others. People who used to identify with their creativity, but along the way lost connection to it.
I could see it clearly.
I knew where, how long, how many people, what we'd do (and not do). All the things. I needed to host this retreat. It felt different. Way more personal than any other experience I've created.
"But who am I to do this? I've only barely realized I'm an artist. People will roll their eyes. It'll be embarrassing if no one comes. Maybe one day."
Then James Baldwin talked to me.
I was listening to one of his talks from 1963 where he aptly articulates the artist's struggle.
They ask, "What do you do?" And you say, "I'm a writer." And they say, "Yeah, but what do you do?"
He shares the story of an artist who "cannot for some mysterious reason settle for" the security and safety of a simple, ordinary life despite trying.
The young artist feels like no one can relate to them. They are devastatingly alone, until they learn that they are not. In fact, everyone feels the same pain and trials.
This knowledge, "compels...corrals...bullwhips" the artist into dealing with what has hurt them. "What is crucial here....[what hurt them is not what's important]...what is important...is that the artist must find someway of using [their pain] to connect with everyone else alive...they must use it to connect with other people's pain [in order to] be released from [their own], and then hopefully it can work the other way around."
He illustrates how "most people live in almost total darkness... you/[the artist] are responsible for those people, to lighten their darkness and it does not matter what happens to you."
I was in tears.
While I'm not a writer or musician or filmmaker — crafts that feel obvious to me in terms of using the art to help people — I know I am (a) here to help people find courage to take leaps in their lives, and (b) I am an artist.
I have listened to Baldwin's talk several times, connecting a new dot or picking up a new piece of his wisdom and feeling ever more seen and understood each time.
What I know is my emergence as an artist in my 40's (I'll be 44 tomorrow) is not about me. This has felt true from the outset.
I keep wishing I had a clear knowing about what art was leading me to. A linear path of some kind. I haven't a clue, but I can't think about much else. My desire to run away to the wilderness and make art butts up against the real need to create some semblance of security in my life.
Be that as it may, it's like water has been poured out of a glass — there's no getting the art back in.
