Month: June 2016

This ‘meeting inspiring people’ thing is turning out to be a lot of fun.

Two encounters this morning, two people doing something special.

Take Wim Kolb, for instance.

Builds bicycles, by hand – starting with hand-soldered frames (not welded – that would weaken the steel too much).

And my goodness, they are gorgeous!

I don’t need a bike, but after seeing these, I really really want one.

I might even join him for a week-long workshop, and build one myself.

But here’s the thing:

Just like so many artists, I believe Wim sells himself short.

Something so special, built by hand and fully customised, should earn him at least twice as much.

And that’s not greed – it’s common sense.

Bikes like that, they’re like the handmade suits I used to make.

They’re made to measure, fully adjusted to your own physique, and designed with all the bells and whistles on it that you want.

And that’s a high-end, high quality, luxury product.

Clearly not for people who shop for suits in bargain stores, or for people who buy cheap Asia-made throwaway bikes.

People who spend thousands on a suit, or a bike, or a kayak, or a work of art…

Those are affluent people.

They are the people who want the best there is, and price is not an issue.

That kind of buyer, they turn – no, they run – away when something isn’t priced high.

Because affluent buyers – the best kind there is – don’t look for a good deal.

Instead, they look for the best possible quality they can get – and they’re happy to pay for it.

Insist on high prices, in fact.

As the famous marketer-turned-artist Hugh MacLeod once told me over a beer in a London pub:

“Why do some people pay millions for a Ferrari? Because they can”.

So if you create high-end things, then you shouldn’t offer people a good deal.

Instead, you should offer them the best you can make, at a high price, with a (true, of course) story that belongs with the thing that you make.

Now obviously, you do need to find those people.

And don’t believe for a moment that ‘these days, people don’t pay high prices any longer’.

They do, affluent people are more abundant these days than ever before.

Your job as a business owner is to learn who they are, where you can find them, and do whatever you can to show up before them.

And when you do?

Then you too get to sell for prices that your work is worth.

Meaning: high prices.

Because if your quality is high and your heart is in it, it’s what you deserve.

Cheers,

Martin

“What I really want, is to be a writer”.

My abbot didn’t look up from his book, and dismissively said:

“Then write. It’s what writers do”.

Frustrated, I left the room.

Silly, to feel that way: After all, the year before, I had written a play for children.

And the year before that, a children’s musical about bullying.

And a bunch of short stories, and poetry…

By all accounts, I had written enough to call myself a budding, or future, writer.

But for some reason, 20 years ago, I didn’t think of myself as a writer.

So if a writer writes, and a painter paints and a cook cooks…

Then what is the point where you get to call yourself an artist?

When someone puts your work in a gallery?

When you sell you first or 50th work of art?

When someone gives you permission?

See, it’s not about the money of it.

Van Gogh was an artist and he never earned a buck for his work.

Me, I like to make photos and I do it a lot – if you’ve seen my Instagram account, you’ll see I’m documenting my trip.

And so yes, I’m an amateur photographer – photography is my hobby.

But I wouldn’t dream of calling myself a pro.

I know I’m not at that level, and I don’t know if I ever will be.

And it doesn’t matter, because it’s simply something I do for fun.

But I do identify as an amateur photographer.

And this, your identity, is something you get to choose.

And you’d better, because if you don’t get clear on how you identify yourself, it’s going to be very difficult to turn your work into a thriving business.

If you consider yourself as just someone who puts paint on canvas, your choices and actions aren’t going to compound into building a business.

If you think you’re someone who just dabbles in putting words in order, you’re not likely to become a professional writer.

So the question is:

What are you?

What’s your identity?

Are you a professional artist?

Remember, earning money for your work isn’t what makes you a pro.

Even if you don’t sell yet, or not enough, you can still be a professional, in terms of how you think, act, and choose.

And as for that permission thing?

You’ve got my permission, in case you need it.

But the real permission to call yourself a pro, or an artist or a writer or a cook…

…is the permission you give yourself.

Now would be a good time.

Btw, if you want to stay updated as I travel Northern Europe, follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/martinstellar/

Cheers,
Martin

So this last week, I’ve been slowing down a bit.

As a good son does, my first stop was my mum’s house, and once here I discovered that I was in bad need of some downtime.

Funny, that sometimes you don’t realise it until the pressure is off.

But it makes sense, because the last few months have been busy busy busy.

Driving out to meet people, days with four, six or even eight hours of skype sessions… it’s been a lot.

Today, I was meant to go to Amsterdam, and gear up for meeting Fun&Inspiring people.

But, last night my friend in Zurich told me I can have his house for two weeks, and he’s leaving tomorrow, this coming Saturday.

Which means I need to get a move on, quick smart, so he can show me around the place and give me the key.

So, no Amsterdam for now, but Switzerland instead.

No big deal, because I doubt Amsterdam will go away any time soon.

And you can find inspiring people everywhere you look.

The house I’m in now, for example:

You don’t know this, but my mother is an amazing and inspiring woman – something I’ll be telling you more about when I’m back in a few weeks.

In Zurich, another friend is also doing something amazing:

Building woodn kayaks, by hand, along traditional Greenlandic designs.

And they are beautiful!

So if I get to have a say, we’ll be selling a few of those over the next few weeks.

Or maybe not – he’s possibly even more stubborn than I am, but we’ll see what happens.

So, I’ve reserved a bed on a sleeper train, and at 8AM tomorrow morning, I’ll be smelling sweet Swiss air.

Yes, there will be pics.

And for the next two or three weeks, I’ll be there, and I’ll be the ‘coach on a couch’.

So what’s the lesson today?

I don’t know.

Maybe something about developing the ability to be agile when things change.

Old me would have protested: Already made plans, got things to do, it’ll have to be later.

New me says: Sure, cool, and thank you. See you on Saturday.

Maybe you think this conflicts with my recent statement that without a plan, just following whichever way the wind blows, you can’t predict what will happen.

But that’s the entire purpose of this trip:

To have no plan (other than ‘meet inspiring people’), and allow myself to be guided.

It’s hardly a plan of course, but I think that in this phase of my life, a little of ye olde unpredictability is just what the doctor prescribes.

Meanwhile, if you live in or near Zurich, and you want to meet up, drop me a line.

Especially if you’re up to big and/or beautiful things…

Cheers,

Martin

You might think that you don’t have a very large network, or that you’re not connected to the kind of people who can help you get some serious visibility.

But while that may true on a surface level, the belief itself will hold you back.

See, it’s not about who you know.

What matters far more, is who the people YOU know, know.

Maybe there’s ten folk in your circles who like you and your work, and would be happy to support you.

That’s not a huge amount – but each of those ten people will know others, and if visibility matters to you (which it should, if you want to sell your art and
live from it), then you would do well to ask those ten people if they’re willing to lend you a hand.

Like so, for instance:

Some of you might know that I’m a volunteer for the annual SaloArte Exhibition, in my quaint little coastal town.

And as with any event, it really matters that we get as many ‘bums in seats’ as possible.

Which is exactly why the organiser, Helen McCormack, has asked me to help out – what with my experience in marketing and so on.

It’s a great show, and actually it’s a pity that I can’t be there myself this year, but I have people to see, places to go.

Not that it matters – I can still (just the way you can) help get some traction, by using the internet, and the people in my circles.

Which would be, if you’re willing, you.

Would you help out, and spread the word?

The more views we get, the bigger the turnout is likely to be, and that’s good for the town and the artists exhibiting.

All it takes is a few clicks: https://www.facebook.com/SALOARTE

Simply click the link, and Like (or, if you really want to help: share) the page.

Helen, myself, and all the artists will be ever so grateful.

This link, a few clicks, and boom: you’ve just helped your fellow artists.

And you bet that feels good.

Clickety: https://www.facebook.com/SALOARTE

Thanks!

Martin

Speaking with my coach the other day, something became clear.

Said he: “People come to my not just because I’m a coach.

“It’s also because I’m a poet.

“It shows them that they, the creatives of the world, and I have something in common”.

Made me think.

Because while I do consider myself an artist of sorts, I don’t actually make art.

Sure, I like to make photos and post them, but it’s a hobby.

I’m hardly serious about it, it’s just a bit of fun.

And this writing schtick, well that’s creative stuff, but it’s not art, because it’s functional creativity.

And yes, I’ve written poetry, and stories, and a musical and I sing – but none of it is something I actually put any consistent effort into.

So I’ve decided to get serious about art.

And no, I’m not your next mid-life crisis painter.

I know my place.

But I do have one thing I’ve always wanted to get really really good at:

Longhand writing.

There’s something so very beautiful about well-crafted letters.

Absolutely no comparison between a printed letter and a handwritten one.

And my handwriting, well that’s just not very refined.

Yet.

Because I’m going to learn calligraphy.

Good and proper, like.

Once I’m back in Spain in a few weeks or months, I’ll look up a Japanese calligraphy teacher.

But I’m going to wait for that, which is why yesterday I went and bought some paper, ink, and a calligraphy fountain pen.

It’s probably the only form of visual art I’ll ever develop, because I don’t really have a drawing hand.

But something about the structure, neatness and methodical process of calligraphy really appeals to me.

Gave it a shot in my teens, and I remember liking it.

Might take months before I’ll show stuff to anyone, or years.

But that doesn’t matter because it’s the process that interests me most, not the result.

Pretty exciting actually.

So, artist, if ever you wondered:

Yes.

I’m one of you.

Cheers,

Martin

When I was a kid, we used to have an annual visit from a tramp named Denny.

He’d show up unannounced, and ask if he could spend a few nights.

My mum and her boyfriend always put him up being the people they were.

He sounded English, but we never found out whence he hailed.

When asked ‘Where are you from’, his eyes would glaze over, and seeing something in the distance only he could see, he’d answer:

“All over man, all over”.

And that’s all he would ever say.

Once, when my mum’s boyfriend came back from driving him out to the highway to hitchhike his way across the world again, he said:

“You know how Denny gets restless and depressed every time he spends more than a few days with us?

“It’s beautiful to see how, when we get near the motorway, his eyes light up and he comes alive”.

That’s always stayed with me, but it’s only now, decades later, that I fully get it.

The road, man… the road.

Being on the road is quite unlike anything else.

And right now, having just boarded a high speed AVE train to Madrid, I know how he feels.

There’s something so exciting about travelling, and while I’ve always known that, I never travelled much.

Yes Denny: I don’t know where you are now, but you’re traveling with me in spirit.

Anyhow, once this train reaches full velocity, I’ll be zipping across the arid and parched plains up to Madrid, at no less than 300 kms an hour.

I don’t know if Denny would approve, but I’m enjoying this.

Trains are great – such an elegant and peaceful way to travel.

And, it’s nowhere near as tiring as flying, what with all the engine noise and announcements and the continuos barrage of adverts for perfumes, foods and watches.

Yes, trains are most definitely my thing.

But, and this is where perhaps I’m not fully evolved yet, this trip is business as well as pleasure.

Sure I’m going to enjoy myself more than a puppy on a lawn full of sprinklers.

And yes I’ll be on a mission to meet fun and inspiring people.

But just going on a trip, just for the fun, just because I want to – that’s not yet part of my life.

Vacation as just vacation… I don’t know.

Maybe I’m too restless for it.

Or maybe I don’t allow myself the pleasure, who knows.

Either way, I think it’s alright.

There’s nothing wrong in combining the fun with the useful.

And that right there is the point of this email, the takeaway for you today:

If you give it some thought, you can always find ways to bring fun into businessy stuff.

And you can always look for ways to add businessy stuff to your fun.

Out on a visit, traipsing around a new city?

Make sure you carry some photos and flyers of your work with you.

You never know if you’ll come across a gallery or end up in conversation with an interesting person who might become a valuable connection.

Sure it’s good to unplug completely.

But I don’t think that should mean you ought to close yourself off to business opportunities, should the opportunity arise.

Because whether you call it fate, or luck, or simply being open to opportunity, abundance can lurk around any corner.

And it’s up to you to either seek it, or at the very least be perceptive and open to it.

Me, I’m seeking – even if the actual plan I have is only rudimentary.

And something tells me there’s no way I can’t not find… something.

The point in all this is that if you sit at home and expect the world to knock on your door, you’ll end up disappointed.

In that sense, we haven’t evolved at all.

If you wanted to eat, you had to get out of your cave and hunt or pick berries.

And these days, it’s still the same.

So what do you say, Urghh…

Time to get out of your cave?

Cheers,

Martin

But there’s no taxing waiting and it ain’t blowing its horn.

And there’s no-one asleep that I don’t want to wake up to say goodbye…

Ah yes… John Denver – Leaving On A Jetplane.

A sappy song as ever there was one, but one of the best leaving home songs out there.

Been on my mind for days as I was preparing to leave, and now it’s your ear worm for the rest of the day. You’re welcome.

Anyway:

I’m about to go on an adventure.

The biggest adventure of my life so far.

Well, going into a monastery wasn’t small either, but at least I knew where I went.

This time round, I have no idea.

All I know is that I’m attending my mother’s party in Holland on Sunday, and I’ll be in Zurich to see clients later in the month.

For the rest?

No idea.

I might go to Belgium, and I’d like to go to Paris again.

England is on the cards, and so is Scotland.

I’ve a few connections in Denmark too, so I might visit.

Could be I also move east, to see Austria, Czech republic, and perhaps Croatia.

Italy?

Mayhaps, on the way back to Spain.

But plans?

I haven’t got any.

Other than:

Meet inspiring and ambitious people, folk who want to change the world in whatever maker-way is theirs.

Because let me tell you this:

The more I focus on finding and connecting with folk who inspire me, the more beautiful my life becomes.

And if you and I have ever spoken, you know I’m probably talking about you.

And it’s addictive.

I want more inspiring people in my life, more ambition surrounding me, and I want to be inspired by the drive and zest and success of others.

And so I’ve given myself three months travel time, to go wherever the opportunity for mirth and merriment arises.

Like yesterday, when my friend Jessica told me about her friend in Croatia, and he sounds like a guy I definitely want to meet.

1500 kms to get there?

No problem. I’ve got an all-in flat rate train pass for Europe, which gets me a seat on any train I want to board.

And trains are fun, and I’m all about fun.

Last time I was on one, I shared a cabin with the first officer of a Greenpeace ship.

Talk about meeting people with an ambition.

And as for the adventure aspect of it all?

Well I’ve travelled before, but never without any sort of plan to go by.

There was always a hotel, an Airbnb, or someone’s guest room.

An itinerary.

This time around?

Nothing. Just my insatiable curiosity into what people do and why, and the willingness to go and meet them.

I rather feel like an explorer, setting off into a jungle.

One littered with traintracks and wifi instead of vines and monkeys, but still.

You could call me Dr. Livingstone, if you were to be so inclined.

But you may wonder why I’m doing this.

Especially given how thoroughly fond I am of my quaint little town, and my cozy and roomy apartment.

Well, maybe that’s an important reason.

My home is my comfort zone, and you know what we’re meant to do with those: leave them behind.

I remember when I was little, and we’d just returned home from vacation.

My mum told me: “You love going on vacation, but you love it even more to come home”.

And it’s true.

My books, my music, my toys… there’s nothing like home.

Or, as the late and great Dutch author Godfried Bomans said:

“Travelling is coming home”.

So that’s one reason: to break out of the familiar and comfortable.

But also: I really want to meet people who change the world and who do it deliberately and in big ways.

I know they’re out there, and so I’m on a hunt, an exploration to find them.

Of course I’ll document the adventure here.

Pics, lessons, maybe interviews… we’ll see what happens.

But meanwhile, a little question for you:

Who do you know who inspires you, is successful (in whatever definition), is ambitious, and is building something important and meaningful?

Someone who lives in Northern or Eastern Europe?

Let me know… I just might want to look them up…

Watch this space, because things might turn pretty interesting.

And as per my missive yesterday:

I don’t have a plan. So anything might happen.

I’m excited.

Oh and hey: I’ll announce in advance what my next stops will be, so if I’m coming to your town and you want to meet, let me know.

First stop: Holland, I’ll be there all week.

Catch up there?

Martin