I will just set this here for you: whether you know it or it or not, you are valuable, you are worthy. Even when you fail. Even when I fail.
Remember.
“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is something valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch.” — e.e cummings (via psych-quotes)
:
I wonder who became the mover, perceiver, stimulator and adapter?
Not everyone understands the choices I make everyday as a painter and entrepreneur.
In school we would take tests based on the Briggs-Myers tests and find out if we are introverts or extroverts, sensing or intuitive, thinking or feeling and judging or perceiving. Often time it would be as simple as saying, “Well you’re creative so you must be left brained and he is good at math so he is right brained,” or some equally useless classification system.
What I’ve discovered at 40ish is the label doesn’t matter.
Sidebar: Is my age a label?
The bottom line is I do what I do because it is who I am. Which is why I like this article in the WSJ. It isn’t left or right brained but top or bottom brained. Depending on our brain activity we are movers, perceivers, stimulators or adapters?
Based on the book “Top Brain, Bottom Brain: Surprising Insights Into How You Think,” by Dr. Stephen Kosslyn and writer G. Wayne Miller, it talks about their exciting research into how we really see the world. It highlights the new view of the brain and offers insight into our role within our families, teams, organizations and in relation to the world.
We only have one life so why do we spend it in a manner dictated by parents, teachers, ministers, spouses and coaches? All too often we find ourselves in situations with people who would have us be something we are not. Happiness in life is found by conforming to our nature instead of conforming to what other people would have us be. I get along best with the people who understand who I am and compliment who I am intrinsically. I get along best with people who know who they are.
Isn’t our obligation to ourselves and our Vision? Why is choosing our lives selfishness if it is honest about who we are and our proper place in the world?
Maybe it is time to make a move based on who we are and not on who other people would have us be.
Click here to take the test.
As an entrepreneur and artist I am always trading off one thing against another to make way for my Vision.
As such, I enjoyed this excellent article on The Art of Manliness website about the Ernest Shackleton expedition to cross Antarctica in 1914.
It was a disaster.
The Endeavor was eventually caught in an ice flow and chewed open by the grinding of the ice against her hull. They were forced to abandon ship and make their way nearly 650 miles across the frozen landscape.
Remember, they did this before Gore-Tex, GPS, cell phones, radios and a host of other modern “conveniences”.
To aid survival Shackleton allowed his crew to take only two pounds of personal belongings on their treacherous journey.
The essay highlights what they kept and what they left behind and then draws some parallels to the modern issues of American life.
I thought it was interesting essay and wanted to share it with you.
To read The Art of Manliness article click here.
Writer, poet, photographer and teacher Charles van Heck.
I want to take a quick moment and thank Charles van Heck at Woodhull Arts Journal for taking the time to get to know me and my art.
Yesterday he publishing a wonderful interview on his site entitled American Experiences; Visions of History and the Business of Art: An Interview with Chrissy Mount (Kapp).
Charles’ interview process is based on a thoughtful and thought-provoking interview where he made time to consider my art and my business before he even spoke with me. He read all of my blog posts, perused my website, examined my art and researched my painting styles and influences before he decided to profile me in his online art journal.
He is a true professional in a world where narcissistic self-promotion all too often hides behind a mask of journalism.
His introduction utilized a wonderful analogy that not only accurately portrayed some of the issues I face every day as an artist but also made me a bit hungry for a really good salad.
I hope you will make the time to read his journal – and the other interviews with other artists – and get to know him for his writing, photography and poetry.
Nivens McTwisp. Bet you didn’t know he had a name.
I’m late / I’m late / For a very important date. / No time to say “Hello, Goodbye”. / I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.
Nivens McTwisp
White Rabbit
Alice in Wonderland
I have a whole lot of social and a whole lot of media. What I don’t always have is a whole lot of time.
For example, my partner and I have been juggling my website, WordPress blogs, Facebook, Google Plus, FineArtAmerica, Zatista, Twitter, art show schedules, gallery correspondence and events, inventory management, travel management, marketing, promotion, sales and two well-loved eight year old twins.
A whole other kind of White Rabbit in Indianapolis, IN. Hasenpfeffer anyone?
Plus we are working on the Art Elves project.
Oh, and life. Did I mention life?
Phew…
To make things easier we have decided to use Constant Contact to streamline out social media outreach. An electronic newsletter, with information about events, specials, new work and the life and times of a mother, painter and art show carnie emailed on a regular schedule.
Hopefully, this will make it easier to keep in touch.
To sign up for the newsletter click here or follow the link below.
Wausau Art Festival, 2012
I cried today. Twice.
Let me explain.
When I woke up this morning I saw my partner had posted a long forgotten interview he found stuffed in a virtual folder somewhere is cyberspace. He posted the article and picture of me on my business’ Facebook and Google Plus pages – straight hair and all.
I found myself reflecting on how overwhelmingly significant the moment was for me as a woman, as a mother and as a painter. The tears startled me as they burst out.
That was the first set of tears.
It had nothing to do with the straight hair.
I cried as I though of how significant this moment was for me as a creative child making my way through an often indifferent Universe. That moment in time, captured on such a temporary medium, was a reminder of what the Universe expected – demanded – of me: Be a woman. Be a mother. Be a painter.
They were tears of gratitude at the moment.
In truth, the Universe doesn’t care about much. It only cares about the path it wants for itself and for us. We either conform or it beats us about like a tiny pea pod in a summer storm. All the while it is pelting us with regrets, lost moments and overlooked opportunities.
“Learn the lesson! Learn the lesson! Learn the lesson! Oh, and don’t make that mistake again,” being the Universal mantra. The ability for life’s bountiful harvest to come to fruition depends on our own ability to learn and live forward and not backwards.
The photo was taken in 2007 at the ArtStreet event by Green Bay Press-Gazette writer and photographer Warren Gerds and was attached to a wonderful article. The picture shows Tina Quigley, the Executive Director of Arts Events Inc, presenting the “Best of Show” award to me.
My wonderfully supportive, and beautiful niece, Betsy Bemmer enthusiastically jumps alongside and shares in my surprise and joy.
That summer had been difficult.
I had two very young twin boys at home, it was my second year on the show circuit and the weather had been wet all season. Two weeks prior to ArtStreet I was working the Festival of Arts in Oconomowoc, WI and they allowed the artists to evacuate early due to heavy rains and flooding.
As any art carnie will tell you – that never happens. Needless to say I didn’t make any sales at that show.
Me at the Bike Art Gallery.
At home there was no sincere support for me as an artist and except for a few diehard cheerleaders I was very much emotionally and spiritually alone.I was feeling knocked down and defeated. Really, I had gone to this show just wanting to get it over with and just go home.
I was finished.
When it happened, I was as surprised as anyone.
Tina showed up in my booth with an award. A Best of Show award!
Yes, the look on my face in that picture is surprise, joy and relief. It was the validation that I so desperately needed at that time. That award meant more to me than the $500 prize that came with it. It was encouragement and validation for what I had put all my passion into. Someone else recognized that my work stood out and had value. I wasn’t a hobbyist or a failure or living a pipe dream.
Germany, 1990.
The Universe knew what I needed and gave it to me. I’m grateful. Thinking of it makes me tear up again.
It was a reminder of where I have been and where I am going to. A reminder of how blessed my life has been because I am willing to make sacrifices to do what I love and to follow my Vision.
It was a reminder of how important it is to have a partner in your life that believes in you and supports you. As I was telling my partner all this, I cried again. He patiently, quietly waited for me to explain through haltingly happy breaths.
Now that hair made me cry.
So the day ended the same way it started – with tears.
Tears of joy, happiness and strength that the Universe has allowed – encouraged, forced – me to embrace my Vision and gave me a partner to remind me that what I need and wants matters.
Like the article, my partner helped me find the truth again. Be a woman. Be a mother. Be a painter.
I had forgotten that too.
Gwen presenting my First Place Prize for painting!
What a GREAT weekend.
At the Spring Green Art and Crafts Fair I took FIRST place in the Painting Category. The prize included a Blue Ribbon (…and good prize money)! That makes two prize ribbons in 5 shows!
I sold my favorite original signature painting to private collectors. My painting is hanging 50 feet from an ORIGINAL Renoir and dozens of other beautiful works.
The kids were delivered to a new home on Monday. Thank you B & C for the love and support.
…AND I sold two original paintings and two giclees to a corporate buyer and my art is hanging in their new 11,000 seat auditorium or one of their new farm scene themed corporate buildings. Hundreds of their 5,500 employees and thousands of their clients will see my work every year.
One of my paintings is going to be featured on the cover of an INTERNATIONALLY known literary magazine and there will be a two page spread about me inside (I can’t tell you the details yet – hush-hush).
I was contacted by a very nice gallery in Benton Harbor, MI that wants to carry my originals and prints.
St. Luke’s Cemetery in Plains, WI.
And I spent two days visiting cemeteries, churches and talking to people to do some genealogy research on my German Catholic roots.
WOW. Simply WOW.
A Time For Firsts
One of the first paintings where someone said, “Chrissy I knew that was yours because of the style.”
Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time. Look for a situation in which your work will give you as much happiness as your spare time. – Pablo Picasso
As I said – as an artist I love my work.
I don’t mean I love what I do – which I do – but I love the actual end result of what I do.
The outcome and not just the process.
I love the work – from my minds-eye to canvas. When using oils on canvas, with a nod towards vintage imagery and feel, my works demonstrate a life-time of disciplined commitment to developing my style and my brand. The result is when someone walks through an art fair or show my style stands out as mine.
For me it is the result of a disciplined commitment to the work. A discipline that demands time, time, time and more time.
People don’t always understand. I’m not even sure other artists understand. I’m not sure I understand but sometimes understanding is overrated.
My job is to be a fine art painter. On a good week I spend 30 hours painting on four or five canvases. On a great week I spend 50 hours.
All to often people think that painting is some magical skill you are born with.
That’s silly.
If you want to be a painter paint. If you want to be a writer write. If you want to a singer sing. If you want to be the starting goalie for the Blackhawks…well you get the idea.
Learning the foundation of my painting style took up thousands of hours and thousands and thousands of drawings, sketches and paintings. Each one slightly better than the one before. Each one slightly different. I was in my thirties before someone said to me, “Wow! Chrissy, I could tell that was yours because of the style.”
That is the kindest thing anyone can say to a creative person. I was no longer seen as simply emulating but was truly creating a work that was mine.
It is the reason my original paintings sell for $7,000 and prints for as much as $500. I could sell $35 prints and $60 originals but that is not my work that is someone else’s work. Not that there is anything wrong with those works it is just wrong for my works. I know the sacrifices, the commitment and the time I’ve made for my works. Loving my works means giving it the attention it deserves such as working on a painting for over a year. Each work needs a different amount of time but they all receive equal love.
I don’t paint for money. A concept that is very confusing to people in this modern culture. As I said, I’m a painter. And as such, I’m not going to cheapen my works or take technological shortcuts just to sell one more.
Beer Cans
I worked on this technical piece for over a year. It is 40 inches wide and 18 inches high.
If I did, I would only cheapen my works, my Vision and most importantly myself. Instead I paint something because my Vision tells me to paint it. I’m blessed to know I have a Vision and although many well-meaning and less-then-well-meaning pushed me to compromise on my Vision I’ve refused.
Some people call that arrogant.
The people who know me know it is simply love – love for my self, love of my work and love of my Vision.
Proper self-love…seriously go and read that link. It is very interesting…I’ll wait…
Anyway, proper self-love is not arrogant, narcissistic or prideful it is actually a source of power and humility.
I love my children and encourage them to do what they need to do to learn and grow (maybe not what they want but what they need). I hope they have a Vision that wakes them up at night. I love my friends and tell them the truth when they ask me.
So then, why is it arrogant or prideful if the love for self tells me the truth? I need to paint.
Why is it selfish if my love for self tells me to paint? To learn? To explore? To make a move?
“Inspiration exists,” said Pablo Picasso, “but it has to find us working.”
…and in truth, my Vision loves me enough to give me inspiration because of this commitment to work on the work. The more I embrace my work the more my Vision gives me in return and the freer I’ve become.
My mom in winter holding a cat from my painting “A friend in all seasons”.
I remember as a kindergartener being assigned to draw my family. A simple, typical assignment for kids that age.
At the parent-teachers conference my teacher told my mom she thought I had “excellent artistic abilities” because of my “attention to details”. I’m forty-something and I still remember the wording.
There may have been something about not paying attention or being easily distracted but I wasn’t listening because there were Jello cups.
In my drawing my dad wore transparent shoes.
Perhaps that was the style?
Anyway, I had drawn out each little toe and even put a fancy mustache in – on him not his toes. Everyone knows toes don’t have mustaches – unless you are Picasso.
However, more importantly, from that moment on she believed in me. She probably believed in me before but this is my memory.
Grandma Stella with a crow
It helps that her mother, my grandmother, Stella was also artistic so she knew – for better or worse – what to expect. Stella drew, painted and hand tinted old photographs. Based on Stella’s photographs, she also had a good eye for composition and story telling.
My mom was always telling her friends, family and co-workers about her “artistic” daughter. It was often embarrassing. That didn’t stop her though. For example, at my graduation
My painting “Lady with Crow”
she proudly displayed my art. She came to every art show and opening she was invited. She came to every one of them proud of me. When I co-owned a gallery and was thinking about buying a building I asked her if she would borrow me the down payment and she said yes. She knew. She believed in me.
That was my mom, she was my first cheerleader.
Then there is the rest of my family. They love me but don’t always understand the Vision. They don’t see that when I’m not creating and painting my body, spirit and whole being aches. I physically hurt. I become like a waterballon stretched and stretched until I finally burst.
However, because they love me they still support me even if they think I’m a bit impractical.
My dear dad has come to many of my juried outdoor shows and helped out. He even came with to Broadripple Arts Fair in Indianapolis last year (I’ll be at Broadripple outside Indianapolis this year May 19-20, 2012). On this eleven hour trip he bit his nails while I towed my trailer through the heart of Chicago…but he still came!
My sister, nieces, nephew and his wife have all helped out at some time. I have two good friends that occasionally come and help set up shows.
Beer can painting and “I believe in you” note from the Note Fairy.
When I wanted my first show my good friend and her husband (follow the link to see some stunning and unique images of Ireland) gave up studio space to give me my first art show when all the galleries said NO.
I have a partner now that believes in me. He doesn’t dismiss me as simply a silly woman with a painting hobby. He doesn’t divide people into Team Chrissy or Team Him. He doesn’t mock my Vision. He doesn’t gaslight me. He doesn’t make me choose.
My consort wants me whole and complete and he sees painting keeps me whole. As a creative person, he understands what it is to have a Vision. More importantly he understands the consequences of ignoring a Vision.
All of these people have become my cheerleaders too.
But my mom was my first and most powerful cheerleader.
Honestly with all the events and happenings in my life in the past year, I could have easily thrown in the towel. But it isn’t what my mother, my friend and my first cheerleader would have wanted. She knew. She believed in me. I won’t surrender my Vision again to a man or society or dogma. I can’t. I won’t. It’s not who I am.
Almost a year after her death from cancer I still hear her ghost encouraging me, bragging on me and showing me off.
The truth is, when St. Peter welcomed my mom into Heaven, she hung one of my paintings on the Pearly Gates.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom.
________________________________________________
Chrissy Mount-Kapp is a professional self-taught painter specializing in creating oil and canvas paintings around Americana and vintage themes. Using the traditional methods of the Masters, Mount-Kapp creates original oil paintings, contracts for private commissions, paints custom murals and sells limited-edition fine art prints.
She currently lives in the St. Croix River Valley area with her two wonderful boys, two needy cats and her mother’s ghost.
_______________________________________
Some additional images of my first cheerleader.
Seriously. I was robbed. As a result, my art show season ended with some big surprises last fall in Albuquerque, NM.
And really, I’m okay with that.
Now.
I was in town doing The Rio Grande Arts and Crafts Festival, which runs the same time as the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta. The fiesta is one of the largest international balloon events in the world. 
On day three of the two weekend event I returned to the hotel found a big surprise: my trailer had been stolen.
The police were called in and the papers filed. I was told at that time “good luck” getting it back and that it was probably long gone in Mexico.
In the hope of getting some relief, I talked to the front desk at the Days Inn and asked to talk to a manager. The manager was not in but I was assured there was surveillance video of the parking lot. The next day I returned to talk to the desk because I still had not heard from the manager. I was told she had been ill and would call me later. Did I mention it was the Days Inn in Albuquerque on Menaul Blvd?
I heart those boots.
My good friends, David and Judy who were also at the art show, let the show directors know of my plight. The show directors called a local news station and I made the evening news.
This was good because it brought people to my booth that might not otherwise have stopped.
My second surprise came when I realized the Days Inn in Albuquerque on Menaul Blvd doesn’t give a care about me or my trailer. I never heard from the manager. I never received a phone call. They even refused to hand over the surveillance tape to the police. I even went so far as to call the chain to see if I could file a complaint and never heard back from them either.
We stayed at that Days Inn in Albuquerque on Menaul Blvd ELEVEN days and nothing EVER happened.
Then my third surprise came!
I got a call on the Friday of the second week of the show and the police had spotted my trailer in downtown Albuquerque. According to the police I was one of the lucky 1 in 20 to get theirs back!
Great news, I was ecstatic!
During this time I was thankful I had insurance to cover my trailer. I was lucky that most of my art and booth were at the show. I lost three bins full of prints, display items, packaging materials, lighting equipment and a small original.
However, when I tallied up the number on exactly what it was that I lost it was still at around $2,000. I thought this was still worth putting in a claim. This is where surprise number four came in.
After putting in my claim I was told it was not going to go through. They said it was because my art business is, “only covered up to 500 feet of my office.”
MY office?
What office?
I am a fine art painter! My agent knew the nature of my business when I signed up for the policy. I stated that I need the insurance because I travel and do outdoor juried art shows. I needed protection from weather, theft and car accidents. I needed to have the trailer and its contents insured!
According to the agent, after the fact, none of this was covered. The reality stung.
I felt as if I had been robbed. Again. Twice.
Once by a couple of yahoos in a hotel parking lot and a second time by a licensed insurance professional.
Then I began to thank my lucky stars.
You see, I had been in an outdoor show last spring where a small twister took out 10 booths in a different part of the show. Had I been one of those artists, I would have lost everything. So I am in pursuit of a new agent and insurance because April 6, 7 & 8 I’ll be at the Deep Ellum Arts Show outside of Dallas in Deep Ellum, Texas to kick off my art show season (I’m in Booth 20!)
Lesson learned ……I will make sure all my bases are covered properly. After all, this is a business and not a hobby.
Just to be clear – did I mention it was Days Inn in Albuquerque on Menaul Blvd?
The Vintage Painter 