We were lucky to catch up with Lorie Marsh recently and have shared our conversation below.

Lorie, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

Every project I’ve worked on has been meaningful to me, because I’ve always felt the desire to live a life without regrets. I’ve never wanted automaticity; I’ve wanted intentionality.

I have a family history of alcoholism, victimhood, and bitterness. Close family members have gotten stuck in regretful self-imposed, or self-worsening situations. They’ve railed at their fates, or quietly succumbed to them. Their gifts to me have been to want to drive. I’m behind the wheel; I have the power to choose, always. If there’s a situation for me that sucks, I can make a different choice. And, learn from the choices that led me to the sucky place.

It took me years to accept myself as an artist. I’m good at so many things, and I’ve given myself permission to explore them all, that it was easy for me to neglect the quiet voice of my own “non-productive” artistry. It was easier to produce others’ works, or to build a business. I felt a need to do, do, do, in order to feel valid as a Creative.

That’s why Failure has been a hard, yet beneficent, experience for me. Every failure challenges my self-concept. When I fail, am I still a good gardener, a good producer, a good writer, a good visual artist, a good entrepreneur…? When I can’t choose one label for myself, is that a failure? When I have “nothing to show” at a given moment, does that mean I’m not an Artist?

I’ve finally reached a point that’s been freeing for me: I embrace that I am an artist and polymath, whatever my current projects are, or aren’t.

Finally, beyond my personal journey above, my utmost meaningful projects have been to be present and giving as a daughter, wife, and especially a mom.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I spent 20 years as an indie filmmaker, theater producer, and story excavator. I worked as a creative producer, writer, developmental editor, director, or script consultant on all kinds of content: narrative films, documentary films, screenplays, novels, plays, websites, educational programs, and multi-platform story-worlds.

My focus gradually shifted away from large, group projects to developing my own voice as a visual artist obsessed with textures and mood. I like presenting stories, images, or perspectives that are unexpected. Perspective informs experience: being able to change perspective is a powerful conduit to gratitude and wonder.

I’ve co-founded a software development company. I’ve gardened and designed gardens for hire. I’ve produced indie arthouse movies. I’ve done public speaking about personal development and storytelling. I’ve designed instruction and created online courses. I’ve designed and sold greeting cards. Currently, I’m creating prints, posters, and books of my own photography.

I like helping people untangle themselves. I like inspiring them to see their own fabulousness.

Compulsive Creative. Visual Artist. Storyteller. Gardener. Entrepreneur. Teacher. Life is about creating, observing what unfolds, and delighting in all of it.

Alright – so here’s a fun one. What do you think about NFTs?

No matter how much I read about them, I don’t “get” the appeal of blockchain and digital ownership. Maybe it’s because I’m Generation X, the last non-digital native cohort. I like things that are tangible. If your battery dies, or you lose electricity, there goes your NFT art collection.

Plus, these days, with the proliferation of AI and online image copying, I’m very deliberate with what I share online. Again, I think I’m wired to perceive privacy issues through an older lens.

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?

My husband and I moved out to Los Angeles so that I could work on bigger-budget film projects. I was working a day job at a studio, meeting with writers and fellow filmmakers to start developing a slate, and working below the line gigs on local shoots. We had sold our house in Austin, Texas and were living with our two cats in a one-bedroom apartment in Hancock Park next to a very loud neighbor. The idea was to give this experiment 5 years, then decide what was next. Maybe move into a quieter apartment. Then I got pregnant.

There went the 5-year plan!

When our daughter was an infant, we moved to St. Paul, Minnesota. We had explored staying out in the LA area, but ultimately, we were more excited to be parents in the Great North. I kept working as a script analyst and indie creative producer for the next 7 years. I had gotten the message that I didn’t need to be in LA to keep my career aspirations alive, but I kept hustling.

Then a few things happened. A filmmaker I’d been producing for two years dumped me, another long-time collaborator’s marriage imploded and put our projects on indefinite hold, my spouse’s enthusiasm for my career aspirations had officially died, and a project I’d been producing for an art gallery got an unexpected delay of 6 months.

Damn. My North Star dimmed to invisibility. I stopped everything (else). I got a part-time job at a retail store. And, I sat in the Void for about 18 months.

The Void for me was a place of mourning the death of my dreams. It was a place where I didn’t know anything. I had no direction. I felt no calling. It wasn’t punishing, just empty.

Every ending lends itself to a new beginning, though. Slowly, I started taking photos with my phone, just for me. Over time, I came to feel enthusiasm for experimenting with POV, angles, shadows, and damn, I’m weird, I really like bugs! I joined Toastmasters for a couple years. I still gardened, and still designed gardens for other DIYers. I let myself be fallow and unambitious. Ambition had been a big factor in my personality. It wasn’t easy to dismantle it. But, somehow, it felt necessary to detach myself from that “leash.”

So, here I am, at the precipice of 60. I have very few regrets, and none where it concerns my creativity or career. We’re nearly Empty Nesters, and I am renewed, yet detached. I’ve just published my first book of black and white photos. Yay!

When Life knocks you down, get back up. If you can’t get back up, take in the view from your new perspective and look for something to be grateful for.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.loriemarsh.com

Image Credits

Lorie Marsh