Hi! I think we're due for a brief re-introduction as some new folks have trickled in since my last newsletter. I am Cindy Lozito, an illustrator, muralist, and cartoonist based in South Philadelphia. I send out these e-blasts quarterly to share more about my artistry, dig into themes of art and business, and sometimes talk about mental health, too. This particular e-blast is a mix of all of the above.
My fall so far has been A RIDE. I got married, collaborated on a citywide campaign with the Philadelphia Museum of Art, taught my first workshop series to teens, got sick for a week, designed a new mural, got bangs, started working on my first picture book (more on that later), processed family stuff, visited San Francisco, worked the polls for the election, cried about said election, and booked a few more projects that I hope to complete before I collapse on the couch in a sleepy stupor come Christmas.
I noticed as more events kept flying by that I needed to pause and document what was going on, but the exhaustion of actually carrying myself through these moments rendered that impossible. Then a couple of weeks ago, I hosted a diary comics workshop for college students taking advanced Japanese. The workshop was intended to help participants express their ideas visually and in another language (which was so cool, and I'd love to do more of that type of thing). During the workshop, the moment finally arrived. As students quietly drafted their comics, I started drawing my own little vignettes from the past season – how it felt seeing 1st graders for a recent school visit, taking a stress nap with my dog, how the day turns to night when I'm still finishing up an assignment. Those drawings tumbled into words which then tumbled into this list of what I've learned now that I feel like I understand with more clarity how my life is shaping up as an artist who does this thing full-time.
This list is for fellow creatives, people curious about this life, and also, frankly, for me. Specifically for the days when I'm stuck in a bad mood and sitting around waiting for that next email to roll in and change my perspective. There's also so, so much more I could say about this topic, but these are the things that have felt most top of mind for me right now.
Some considerations: I've been making art professionally for about a decade now, but it's been a year and a half since I haven't relied on other full or part-time income, which makes this time markedly different than any other in my professional career. I can't even imagine how much this list of lessons and thoughts will grow in one or five or ten years.
1) You truly do have to be delusionally invested in your own growth. I mean this with my entire heart: hopefully you are lucky enough to have a community of people who love and care about you, but there is no one who cares about your work in quite the same way that you do. Act like it in how you carry yourself, talk about your projects, and craft your professional messaging. If someone compliments your work and you respond in a way that's self-deprecating, they'll take it as a sign to treat you and your work accordingly. It sucks but it's true.
2) Just accept that social media is gonna do what it does and try to handle it on your own terms. Something I find so painful about social media is the necessity to be much more "on" my phone in order to have a shot at algorithmic success, tracking the micro-movements of social trends and how quickly they move (sounds, hooks, POV, tag lines, edits, cuts, speeds, algo changes – it goes on and on and just writing this list is making my palms sweaty). I am by no means a social media expert, and I believe I'll always rock back and forth between promoting myself a lot and then very little. Regardless of what's new and trending, I try to follow these tenets with my marketing:
Am I proud of what I made? Or does it embarrass me?
Would I be okay with my parents seeing this? My in-laws do follow me on Instagram, so this is a real consideration. I know some of you have nosy aunties following you who will run and tell the rest of your family what you're doing, too. I don't want to feel uncomfortable the next time I see family in-person because of something I posted. But that's just me.
Does the content in question answer the very basic necessities of marketing? As in, if I'm doing an event, is it clearly understood from the post or caption or reel where, when, and for what reason it is happening? I am constantly astounded at posts where people put in their captions things like, "I know you already know this…" because no, I absolutely do not. A five-minute scroll on my phone floods me with thousands of thoughts, comments, events, and promotional posts from people around the world. If I can't remember the specifics of a friend's show or pop-up, I assume the same thing is true for other people seeing my posts, so I try to hammer out the basics whenever I'm promoting something.
When I was considering how I wanted to treat social media at the beginning of this year, I knew I wanted to focus more on quality than quantity in my feed, spending WAY less time making throwaway reels and instead focusing on videos where I've told a story or shared something with more value. When work is slow, I feel tempted to spam more with low-quality content because I need more gigs, but the data shows me that those attempts are futile for engagement, and they emotionally feel like a waste of my time. I'd rather have my Instagram be a secondary portfolio and spend promo time cold emailing or reaching back out to old clients. Also: with this IG as a secondary portfolio strategy, nothing is more illuminating than meeting a stranger in real life and watching how they interact with your profile. Agonizing, but illuminating!
3) You will be extremely grateful for the friends you have who do not work in your industry. I love having fellow artist friends. They can be such my lifeline. But cultivating friendships outside of my craft has been a balm for the soul. They help me feel sane and remind me that my value is not only in my productivity. After the celebratory night of my Philadelphia Museum collaboration in September, one of the most publicly visible moments in my career, I went to get oysters and drinks with my husband and two very dear friends who do not work in illustration. We soaked up the celebration for an appropriate amount of time before diving into totally off-topic conversations past the restaurant's closing time. It was the best feeling in the world to turn off my work brain after such a buzzy day, and I'll forever be grateful for that evening and for their friendship.
4) Kindness, proactive communication, and being all around pleasant to work with are worth their weight in gold. Sometimes these "soft skills" are more important than being a talented artist. Be nice to absolutely every single person you work with, from the janitorial staff to the C-suite. It costs nothing to be good to people without a personal agenda, and it also feels really good to go out of your way to be nice to people. Writing thank you letters and emails, not just at the end of year but whenever it feels appropriate, is really such a gift for all parties involved.
5) The difference between you and someone else getting a project may be something so unknown to you, it's not even worthwhile to agonize about it. It might be something about the aforementioned communication style. It could be because the art director personally knows an artist better or had someone on staff refer them. It could also be a hyper-specific quality about someone else's work that yours didn't have. Missing out on bids used to really hurt, and it still stings, but I try not to make it my business to let that feeling fester for too long because what's meant for me is meant for me. This is a lot easier said than done when work is slow, but I try to trust the process.
6) Don't be afraid to (kindly) ask for more. Not just for money, either. Sometimes the answer is no, but I still think it's better than not asking for anything at all. There are some projects where I wish I had negotiated for more money, and others where I was pleased to get a higher bump than I expected (both for me AND other artists on projects, which is the best feeling). Other useful requests I received this year have been more time, reimbursements, more hands on deck, a byline, additional promotional posts, extra product samples of something I made, and more. A work contract is supposed to be mutually beneficial - try not to give yourself the short end of the stick. I'm still learning to work on this and ask for even more.
7) There will be some projects you expect to end with fanfare that end up leaving you feeling indescribably disappointed. There were a few projects this year that I thought would involve a lot more press or gratitude from the client or some type of big celebration that felt commensurate with the amount of hours and stress I put into the project. And then they just ended and fizzled, and I was left feeling a bit used and abandoned. This pointer probably needs more unpacking around how much I tie happiness around my professional career, but I still found it a useful lesson around being cautious with my expectations. Unless you happen to have insight from a fellow artist who has worked with the same client, it's hard to know which projects are more likely to end in that feeling from the outside, and you will only know once you're in it.
Related: Sometimes you won't know the gain of a project or get a lead from work that you did for something specific until many years later. I worked on my first painted mural at the Philadelphia Flower Show a few years ago, and I'm surprised that people still reference it when they're commissioning me for a project. If you're putting yourself out there consistently, people will be thinking of you. You never know whose slide deck you're in, who is bringing you up to their colleagues, or who has been thinking of you for years but is still waiting for the right project to assign to you.
8) There's so much power in simply showing up. In late summer, I popped into an exhibit at Da Vinci Art Alliance where I ran into an old friend I hadn't seen in years, an artist I admire and had been meaning to meet, an amazing educator who later invited me to do a school visit at her workplace, and another educator whose advice proved essential for a teen workshop I was just about to lead. I'm describing an extremely Philadelphia scenario for you right now. But my takeaway is this – you never know how impactful the act of leaving your house might be. Your presence could be meaningful to someone putting on a show or hosting an event who didn't expect to see you. It can also mean opening a door to a future opportunity for your career, since someone now has face recognition of you and you're more top of mind for an upcoming project.
I identified as an introvert for most of my life, and I'm noticing that label no longer fits my personality these days because I've spent so much time tackling my social anxiety by showing up to more and more things. Don't get me wrong – extensive social time definitely still feels heart pounding at times. But I've found that most people are forgiving to awkwardness in a conversation, and even if I feel anxious going to something alone where I might not know many people, I still find value in going just to see what will happen. If all of this makes you nervous, I have found that establishing small goals in the lead up can be helpful, like talking to one stranger, passing out one business card, or setting a goal time for how long I'll stay at an event.
Do any of these resonate to you? If they do, or if you're curious about other things I haven't mentioned, please share in the comments!
What Kind of Queen?
I've been working away at sketches and concepts for my first picture book this fall, which still feels so dreamy to say. Here's the full scoop on the project:
When the manuscript for this book popped into my inbox, I screamed and felt some rain on my face and freaked out over how lucky I am to work on this special project. In light of the election in November, I feel even more fueled to draw pictures for a book that emphasizes the queen in all of us, regardless of our genders. It is an incredible gift that projects in my professional career can be tools for change, representation, and deeper compassion toward others. I've been thinking about that while I tackle my nerves around making sure I do right to depict José Sarria well, since he is such a beloved figure in San Francisco history.
This book will also be a longer sequential project than anything I've made in the past, and maintaining consistency and continuity across pages has been an interesting challenge. While I can't share pages from the book before it's complete, I'm excited to share some insight into my process once I'm able!
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Thank you so much for reading. And if you are a paid subscriber, I wanted to extend an EXTRA thank you to you. Your continued support this year has been really meaningful to me. I appreciate it so much.
Til the next one!
Cindy
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