“Two are broken and the underlighting isn’t working either,” Ashley tells me, her tone letting me know that she’s as disappointed and crestfallen as I am. It’s only DAY 2 of 18 at ArtPrize, a massive city-wide art competition taking place in Grand Rapids, Michigan and we’re at our very prominent and highly-trafficked display of The Lamplighter sculpture. Top prize is $50,000. Oh, and it’s our 10 YEAR anniversary so we’re looking as good as it gets for a rare night on the town without the kids. Shit. Time to work.
The space for The Lamplighter.
Mostly set up and full of hope.
All of the new pedal stations and hand crank working and ready for action in a beautiful setting.
Follow the thread that led us here back in time and you’ll find Ashley and me talking about failure. We had just watched a movie about some artist or inventor that had failed a hundred times or maybe just ten (I don’t remember movies well) and we were wondering if we failed enough in our art business.
You see we didn’t start the Voorhees Art Collective to play it safe, creating the same work year in, year out and coast into a pleasant, unremarkable existence. We charged down this path full-steam ahead with our eyes wide open at the endless possibilities and our hearts full of gratitude for the chance to take the ride. We were all-in and promised to always keep that hunger to explore unknown territory with our life and work. We vowed to not play it safe.
This guy was not a practical decision.
So how do we measure whether we’re keeping that promise? It’s simple: count our failures.
To fail is to go big and fall short. To fail is to cast yourself into the unknown and to stumble hard. To fail is to expect a lot of yourself and not quite get there. But to fail is also to grow.
How many dreams remain unrealized because of the fear of failure? How many wondrous works remain uncreated because we play it safe? I’m betting that each of us has our own fair share, myself included.
The hard part about failure is that the lesson isn’t immediate. We have to go through embarrassment, self-doubt, criticism from ourselves or others, and heaviest of all, immense disappointment. We have to go through a 10-year anniversary date night full of wonderful expectations turning into a frazzled scramble for patchwork solutions smothered in gloom and dismay. This part is not enjoyable.
But on the other end of that hard road is a healthy dose of fulfillment. Fulfillment in knowing that you went big and bold. You took the leap of faith. You chose vulnerability over playing it safe. You brought something new into this world, however small, and took a step closer towards realizing your full potential in this life. Because one day those failures will pile up high enough that you can stand atop of them to see the illuminated path forward towards your next biggest creation: the one that WON’T fail (maybe). And THAT is livin’.
So many people enjoyed The Lamplighter and had no idea about our struggles.
So did ArtPrize deliver? Yes and no. We didn’t take home the grand prize (or any prize, for that matter). Our pedal stations that powered the interactive lighting component of the sculpture failed frequently and fantastically for the entirety of the show. The underlighting continued to give us problems as well.
But we fought our way through figuring out a slick new transport and display pedestal. The sculpture held strong throughout and looked absolutely breath-taking illuminated against the skyline of Grand Rapids. Most importantly, we walked away with memories: our friends and family unexpectedly showing up to support our big idea, the public smiling with wonder as they explored the sculpture, sitting back while our two boys worked the crowd with ease and candor. These are the moments that I hope remain alongside the memories of our shortcomings.
Our handy friend made this rolling platform for the sculpture.
It made installation so slick. We were able to do it with just the two of us.
It really did look super cool at night.
Ultimately, we came out on top and wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because we failed we know that we stayed true to ourselves and didn’t shy away from the big ideas. We sally forth with renewed vigor and commitment to be bold. ONWARD!
The aftermath. Someone kept pulling the very heavy hand crank onto the sidewalk and all of the pedal stations have been removed because they didn’t work.
Goodbye ArtPrize.
P.S. As you may know, we’ve committed to (slowly but surely) transitioning most of our online social output to Patreon, a site full of creatives that encourages longer, more thought-provoking posts in this age of quick-hit flashes on the other sites. It is a monthly subscription model starting at $3, with our patrons being able to dig deeper into our lives, both personal and professional with hopes that will allow for us to create even more meaningful works of art.
Nothing will change with the monthly blog you are currently reading being free, but if you’d like to become a patron and read further into our experience, please head on over there and check it out. Right now you can read Ashley’s distinct take on ArtPrize along with a handful of other posts, which will only be viewable to our patrons.
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