We recently connected with Amelia Leonards and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Amelia , thanks for joining us today. Let’s kick things off with your mission – what is it and what’s the story behind why it’s your mission?
Art is about making connections.
And yes, I know we’ve all rolled our eyes at densely written artist statements that say things like ‘my work celebrates the dichotomy between parmesan cheese and the deeply interwoven curds of fate that connect artist to audience’.
BUT, cheese aside, the connections are real. And not only between artist and viewer, but also between artist and subject. My background is in art history and archaeology, which taught me that despite our differences, we humans all have a LOT in common- the parallels found in stories from around the world are painfully obvious. I was fascinated by this realization, not only because it’s just really amazing, but because when I was younger I had a very difficult time connecting with others. When I began my professional illustration career, one of my main goals was to explore themes in myth and folklore in an effort to blur the harsh cultural lines humanity seems to delight in drawing. (This is when one of those dense statements would roll out ‘personal microcosm vs. global macrocosm’- or something, I don’t know, the fine artists had their own floor at school and wouldn’t speak to us illustrators).
And so the mission really is to connect, on every level, and to find understanding and beauty in stories told for thousands of years.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
When I was a much tinier person, I hated fairies. The only one I knew of was Tinkerbell from Disney’s Peter Pan, and even at the age of three I found her shallow attitude and short little pixie skirt ludicrous. I decided that if she was an example of a fairy, then I wanted nothing to do with them. No, I wanted to dig up dinosaurs. I knew the name of every dinosaur and could pronounce them better than most adults, and I spent all of my free time sloppily excavating my dry California backyard searching for Maiasaura femurs. I never found any.
I didn’t discover the complexity and utter, delicious horror of real fae until I was much older and significantly taller. I’d always loved mythology, folklore, creature design, and collecting pieces of the natural world- especially remnants of dead things, which worried my parents- so it’s really not surprising that I stumbled into Annwn- the Welsh Otherworld- like an over enthused and very lost adventurer on a quest for glowing lanterns and indigo.
As for watercolor? It’s hard. Amazing, delicate, and rewarding, but hard. Fortunately no one told me, or I probably wouldn’t have ever dared to pick up a brush.
It’s all led me to an unusual place. Now, at 37, when I am introduced to someone new or approached at a party and asked what I do for a living, I reply “I’m a freelance watercolor fantasy artist.” The general follow up question is “what?” or “that’s a neat hobby!”, or my favorite, “what does THAT entail?”
Well, it entails endlessly perfecting artistic style and expression, while ALSO working as a social media manager, a printer, a bookkeeper, and a retailer. It’s brainstorming fun merchandise at 2 am instead of sleeping, going for long walks in the woods for inspiration, traveling around the country for conventions, and taking on freelance work for both commercial and independent clients. It’s toeing the line between the creation of work that feeds my soul and a willingness to make the visions of others a reality.
From a business perspective, if I’m most proud of anything, it’s that I have managed to follow this path full time. From an artist’s perspective, I’m most proud that after almost 20 years, I’ve finally managed to get watercolor to do the exact flooshy thing I’ve always loved. From a more personal perspective? I’m deeply touched by the joy people have found in my work, and very happy when someone connects strongly with a particular piece.
Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?
Fairly early on in my artistic career, I stumbled into running and owning a gallery. While that SOUNDS amazing, it was perhaps NOT the proper venue for a fantasy illustrator. Tourists would wander in off the street, ice creams in hand and sunglasses askew, then stop and blink dazedly in the dim interior. Only the sound of melted ice cream dripping to the floor would disturb the stillness. And then the questions would begin rolling in:
“. . . Why does that naked woman have an owl head?”
“Do you have any paintings of the harbor?”
“Are these what your nightmares look like?”
“Is that a paint by number?”
Despite other local artists- all fine artists, mind you- insisting that I was ‘living the dream’, I most assuredly wasn’t. At one point I was bullied (actually though) into making an appointment with the local business incubator, a group of elderly men in fancy suits who probably made more in a year that I will in my life. I cannot describe the utter bafflement on their faces when I tried to explain my business to them- they literally couldn’t gasp it. Eventually one of them slapped a folder on the desk, told me to paint boats and lighthouses if I wanted to succeed, then dismissed me.
It was glaringly obvious that something needed to change.
It was ALSO obvious that to achieve any kind of actual success, I needed to actively go and find my audience, not twiddle my thumbs behind the counter and hope that someone who loved the idea of the Kraken devouring a lighthouse would wander in.
Taking the leap and leaving what most considered to be a dream situation was very very difficult, and I was told multiple times that I was making a huge mistake.
Guess what? They were wrong.
If you have multiple revenue streams in your business, would you mind opening up about what those streams are and how they fit together?
A fellow artist was told that a business is like a table- it needs four legs (revenue streams) to stand on, with a fifth supplementary leg to swap with any that fail, like a spare tire.
I’ve always agreed with the sentiment, but it was the pandemic that really drove the lesson home. I do a fair amount of business at conventions and fairs, so when large gatherings were shut down in 2020, I survived exclusively through online sales. I was lucky enough to have a fairly thriving Etsy and friends and clients willing to commission work, but selling art- a commodity that is WANTED, not NEEDED- through a global pandemic while struggling to keep the lights and heat on was easily one of the most frightening experiences in my life. It made me think very hard about the 4-5 table leg rule, and I’m currently trying to whittle away at different legs (my table is definitely made of a wood that warps, is difficult to cut, and laughs at power sanders).
Currently, I have Conventions/Fairs Print and Merch Sales, Online Print and Merch Sales, Commissions/Client Work, and Patreon.
Teaching has been another area of income for me; I taught in person for 15 years and am currently transitioning to online classes, so I’m hoping that can be a spare leg to swap out with Patreon. Licensing is another area to explore, but it won’t amount to much for a while- I have three tarot and oracle decks coming out, one finished and two in the works, so it’ll be a while. Sales of Existing Originals are also technically a stream, but they overlap with Commission/Client Work.
I’d like to take a moment to make a PSA about the business of being an artist:
Dear everybody who thinks being an artist is sitting wistfully at a window in a beret, cradling a glass of cheap wine and crying onto a canvas when the stars are aligned and inspiration has struck, you’re wrong*. It’s running and managing a business while also producing the goods you sell from scratch, all on your own, 24 hours a day.
*The cheap wine and tears are accurate, though.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.amelialeonards.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/amelialeonardsart
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmeliaRoyceLeonards
- Other: https://www.etsy.com/shop/Ameluria