Rebecca Guay is that rare combination of kindness and compassion along with an absolute burning focus that has launched her through many transformations in her art career. In this episode, she shares how change happens in both quick and slow ways, offering valuable insights into navigating transitions with intention. Whether you’re an artist, entrepreneur, or simply someone looking to embrace change in your life, Rebecca’s story offers valuable lessons. Learn how she successfully pivoted from a successful career in comics and fantasy art to focus on personally driven gallery work. Discover the importance of community, the power of social media, and the necessity of a strong business sense in the creative world.
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Welcome to the Art of Transformation. I’m your host, Marc Scheff, and I’m joined this week by a very special guest, a very special friend, someone who has been a teacher to me, a mentor to me, a friend to me, a lifeline to me, so many things over the years. Rebecca, welcome to the show.
Happy to be here. Thank you for asking me.
I think back on my work as a coach. We all need that support from people at various times in their lives. I just remember, how many times have I texted you or called you and said, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You’re like, “Let me get you back on track.” That’s so meaningful, to have people like that in your life. Before we get into all that, can you just give our viewers, our listeners, a little sense of who you are in the world?
I’m a professional artist, and I began my career, as some people might know if they know my work, as a comics artist and then a science fiction or fantasy artist. I spent a lot of years within that genre. In 2011, after completing two large graphic novels that were creator-owned projects, which were wonderful projects, there were other things that I wanted to say with my work. I ended up shifting my focus to personal work, personally driven stories, developing the power of narrative within a gallery context. I’ve been largely, if not exclusively, working in the gallery world, doing shows and my own books, my own projects that usually revolve around a show. Even though I stopped in 2011 doing publishing primarily, I did my first solo show in 2013. That’s what I continue to do to this day.
Something that’s always impressed me also about you is, I’ve been friends with you for some of these changes and these evolutions, when you set your mind to something, you get very focused. You do your research. You figure out what the landscape looks like. It’s not always easy either. I assume, and I’d love to know from your perspective, when you’re going through a big shift like that, from a very good career in fantasy or sci-fi comics to saying, “I really want to do something completely different,” if you can go back to that 2011 time, what were some of the fears that you had as an already successful artist in making a big change like that?
The thing that happens with change is that it happens quick and slow. For a number of years, I had been thinking I wanted to do personally driven work, but I didn’t know what that meant for me. I had been working on publishing projects and putting a lot of energy into getting my own publishing projects published with mainstream publishers, which took a lot of energy.
In the middle of working on that, on the side, I was also starting to develop what my non-publishing-related work would look like and doing a number of pieces that were purely for myself, to see what that looked like. That started happening around 2005 or 2006. By the time I hit the point of finishing those two large projects, I had a number of works that I knew where the direction would go. I’d slowly been bringing that forward in smaller venues and other places to see if there was actually a physical and practical place for those pieces to sell.
You’re working towards something in small bites, consistently completing piece after piece after piece ahead of making any major shifts. It’s like things dovetail. You’re moving along one track, you’re starting another track, they overlap for a while, then the other one starts picking up and moving, and then you’re ready to go, “I’m ready to jump onto this island or this ship and let that ship carry me for a while.”
You almost never are traveling along on a train and then hit another train and jump immediately into something cold. You’re starting to put the pieces in place to make a shift. Again, by the time I felt I could jump to a solo show, I had the two graphic novels behind me, and I had the money in the bank from them, from the advances that came to that.
Really important.
It wasn’t like a ton of money, but it was enough. I had also enough sales from collectors who had followed the new work for me to say, “I’m selling the new work for a lot more because it’s larger pieces.” The fact that it’s selling is meaningful, and that was a safe place to start the shift then I could move on to do the body of work for the show.
Every show you do is a leap of faith. Most artists don’t sell out a show, that’s a fiction. Mostly what happens is you have a strong enough show so that it provides a nice cushion to move on to your next thing. That’s how it goes. You have a strong show, a decent show. That’s a success. That’s a tremendous success
It’s a nice long view, in a way, because it can be very disappointing, as I am very familiar with, to have a show that doesn’t sell as well as you want it or a release that doesn’t sell as well as you want it. In the context of these larger overlapping train tracks, as you put it, these things can be OK.
There are always many trains to an artist. An artist in a creative life has many trains that they are operating. Many engines are running always. Very few artists just have one stream of income to make things happen or possibilities to get things out there. You have to be OK with moving around a bit between things.
If your artistic life could look different, would you want to have a life where it’s really just one train?
Just one track? I think we’re always working toward a simplification. It would be nice, but at the same time, what happens if that one thing went away? I think it’s a fiction. It would be lovely to just paint and have every single show I do sell out to the degree that it just generates two years’ worth of income. I could guarantee that would happen every single show I did. I’ve been doing this long enough to understand that I’m a realist about that. I have years where I wasn’t showing. During COVID, I put together a book project and sold the book and had that funded through fans who wanted the work. Maybe it would be nice to have just one thing, but I am not sure, it’s so unlikely.
Even in the very best scenario, I’m sure there are megastars who have just monster shows every couple of years, but then what happens when something doesn’t sell or your gallery drops you? I don’t want to name names, but I know a couple of people who were what everybody expects from the outside. They look like megastars. They look from the outside like art world superstars. Their gallery closes, major gallery closes, one that’s been there for 40 years, and all of a sudden, they can’t find representation again. This happens, and it happens to huge names. As an entrepreneur artist, I don’t think I’d ever give up the ability to understand how to pivot.
I think you really hit on something there, that creatives, and not just creatives, but if you are creating anything, it could be creating an art career, or whatever small business you’re creating, or bigger business, you’re creating something. All of those people are entrepreneurs on some level. When I worked for you and taught at SmArt School, it’s one of the conversations we always had at the very beginning of the semester. I taught the beginner classes, for those who don’t know. We would have people come in, and you’d say, “What do you know? Why are you here? What do you want to get out of the class?” They say, “I just want to make art. I want to make art. I want to provide for myself with my art.”
On one hand, you’re absolutely right. There’s a handful of people who legitimately live that life and do that and are secure enough that they don’t necessarily worry about the gallery closing. They’ve got enough different clients, that’s where their diversification maybe comes from. The other side of that is you’re an entrepreneur. There’s a whole lot to running a business, even if it’s your own art business. It’s that whole running-the-business side that also has to happen. That’s not something that everybody wants to do. Maybe you have the resources to hire a team to do those things for you. Unless you’re really interested in that, it’s going to be a lot more of a grind.
Anybody in a creative industry, they largely have to be just really good business people. It’s the hidden part of why a small percentage of artists actually are able to make it. It’s not that their art’s not good. It’s not like they can’t produce art. It’s that you need a very challenging skill set that a lot of people have a hard time seeking and finding. I think everybody has the ability to find it because everybody’s path on how to find what works for them is different, but if you know you have a certain way in which you can get things done, and you follow how you do it, then you can usually connect it to other parts of your career as an artist and make things go.
It’s not linear, and it doesn’t have defined borders being in a creative profession. You’re always in a state of asking, “What needs to be done next? Given the current climate, what needs to be shifted? What needs to be changed?” That’s separate and aside from the actual work that you’re making as an artist. This is what’s hard about being an artist.
That’s it. When you’re doing this kind of work, when you’re creating something out of nothing, it is hard. The thing that I’ve heard, and you’ve heard, over and over again is how lonely that can be and how isolated it can feel. I’d love to know, in your background, something that I think a lot about is community and how important healthy, thriving communities are. Especially for creatives who are largely working in isolation these days, more and more. In your life, where has that shown up? I know some of the stories, but I’m curious from you, where have you had community that you’ve relied on? For various things that have helped you in your career?
There’s a couple of different pieces to the answer. Largely, I think a lot of us as artists are, and me particularly, I’m an introvert that puts on an extrovert outfit and exists that way in hyper-focused periods of time. I’ve made friendships over the years that are long and meaningful friendships, but they’re not always friends that I see daily at all. There are people that I see 2 or 3 times a year, even some of my closest friends, because my daily life is actually super quiet. It’s very quiet. It’s me working and working on the projects, working on the art.
A few-times-a-year touch points with certain pieces of a community go a really long way. If you’re worried that you don’t have a daily community and you’re a failure in some way because you don’t have some big idea of a community, I think it’s important to dismiss that idea. Community might mean that you meet up with a few friends twice a year, and you connect with those particular artists, or you touch base now and then with a couple of other friends every few months on art.
You really only need 1 or 2 people in your life that you really respect, and I’ve got that. I’ve got my husband, who’s an artist who I respect tremendously. If you have that person to bounce your ideas off of, who you really respect, or one other close friend, that’s like the heart of things, I think, for me anyway. I think it’s hard sometimes, again, going back to that piece about when we talk about community and we see this idea of what community is online, or what other people talk about, we really can be hard on ourselves if we feel like we’re not loved enough by our community. “Why don’t I have the community that another person has?” When, in fact, it’s usually clusters of people a few times a year. It’s not like everybody’s getting together and having really productive parties every week without you.
You only need one or two people in your life that you really respect.
You’re not doing that?
Not at all. I think that’s another important thing to remember. There might be some people who are just really charmed with that kind of existence, but it’s not me. It doesn’t mean you need to have that in order to be successful. What you need to do is connect in with the people periodically in a meaningful way.
Something that just came to mind as you were talking about that is, community can look like a lot of different ways. I know, you know, the program that you run, SmArt School, I know there’s a great community there. I was part of it for a long time. You can dip in, and you can dip out, and people are really supportive.
It happens online largely.
It does happen online.
The online part is super important. I think still online communities are really important.
Unpack that a little bit for us. What does that mean? Why is it so important?
I don’t think I would have nearly the career that I’ve had were it not for things like Instagram and Facebook. No way, no way at all. I actually enjoy the process of connecting with people. People do see my work, and I’ve started friendships and relationships that, again, I might not see people weekly, but really meaningful ones where I see people every six months, and we check in, and it’s amazing. Gallery relationships that have started directly out of people seeing my work online. I think it’s very of the moment to diss social media, but it’s an outrageously excellent tool for all of it.
I know. You and I have talked about anxiety-gram, and there are different sides of it. Comparison trap where you’re like, they have all these likes and views, and I’m not getting these things, but you also seem to have a very healthy view. I heard you say something there that was, I think, qualitatively different than maybe the way some people are approaching it, which is you are there, and you are connecting with people. I’m curious, because again, that can be so mentally heavy, on there all the time and not getting anything or whatever. How are you approaching it in a way that feels healthy?
I think I’ve always enjoyed it. I’ve always enjoyed the process. Some people, they really don’t like the process. As an introvert, it’s perfect for me because I chase down what I like, and I start following artists that I legitimately like. I start following individuals who have good ideas that I truly do like. I try to engage in meaningful ideas, even in a short way, and that does work. I get into these interesting little snippets of conversations with people. They end up following my work. I end up following theirs. When we run into each other at a show or something, it’s very cool. Six months later, we run into each other again at another show or at another event. It’s also very cool. Sometimes it takes five years to see some of these friendships to fruition or relationships to fruition, but so many have happened out of it.
In the process of even on the teaching side of what has been my life and bringing teaching forward, it’s where I would connect with all the students I’m working with, have worked with, or am currently working with. I love to see when they post. I love to see when my students are posting. I’m working with teaching at New York, he had an art this fall. I don’t usually teach at live programs. In the past, I’ve taught with SmArt School and online programs and things, but this year, it’s been interesting to come back to a live setting.
That being said, as much as I like working with them live, we all follow each other on Instagram. That was the first thing I wanted them to all do, make sure I was following them because in the next five years, I want to watch what they’re doing. I want to see where they’re going. I want to go support them when they have a show. I want to repost their events and their new successes to my stories. I want to do all of those things, especially if I really love what they’re doing. That’s just another great benefit of what social media can do. It feels really good to amplify some good work that you want to see in the world.
It resonates with me because in the work that I do as a coach, something that I’ll tell people all the time is we might have these virtual meetings, live interactions, but a lot of the work, meaning the growth, whether inside or the art outside, a lot of that happens in between the sessions. Having those connections in between, where you can boost, update, like, comment, whatever, is really valuable. I’m hearing you talk, and I know this to be true, but you really believe in the power and the essential nature of art in our lives and in society.
Very much so. We understand the world through stories, I understand the world through stories. I always have. It was the place I would go for solace and understanding of where I fit in things. It was what gave me joy to seek out when I was growing up. The power of world-building, creating your own reality, is what I do every day when I’m in the studio. When I see other people connecting to the world I’m building, and it gives them the same space and inspiration and feeling of helping them understand the world, it really is meaningful to me. We have such a limited time on this planet, we have this one precious life, and art and stories and music and culture and the things that bring forward the map of the human heart, that’s the only thing that matters.
Going through these stressful moments that many of us are feeling about what’s happened with the election and coming to realize that the agony of the world can’t live rent-free in my brain. You can put it in a place and be an activist, but your life is this one life, and filling it full with things that elevate your heart and giving that forward is really where my biggest aims are as an artist.
I’ve seen you do that with your work. I’ve seen you do it as a teacher, as a mentor, as a friend. The idea that you are giving people, in a way, like permission and access to connecting with some deeper understanding of themselves or of the world, I do think that’s important. Someone asked me the other day why I coach and why I do inner work as opposed to business coaching or whatever else. Because I think, similarly to you, if we can, through our creative efforts and whatever that looks like, have an impact on people such that they are truly, authentically, hopefully peacefully connected with the deeper meaning of their lives and the presence in their lives. Imagine if everybody just had that, how many fewer problems we would have in the world. I know a lot of artists who are like, “I want to do more. I want to change things.” I think that we can change things just in the actions we have in our everyday lives.
I’m having this conversation right now with some students about that. They come from a place of activism in their art, and they want to put that forward, and that’s a whole other layer of what you might do. You can do big activism with your art. You can do quiet activism with your art. Activism doesn’t always have to look like a scream. It can look like a whisper that resonates, and I have different layers of that that happen in and throughout the work. Sometimes things go very directly at activism in the work. Sometimes they’re quietly underneath. When the work starts causing you pain, and you’re in a constant state of agitation and pain with the work you’re doing yourself, that’s usually the place at which I try to reel back and say, how much of this do I want to experience in the process of this in the studio?
You can do quiet activism through art. It does not always have to look like a scream. It can look like a whisper that resonates and possesses different layers.
I’ve been through periods of intense stress. The election certainly notwithstanding, we all have lives and things that go on in our lives, pandemic, a health scare. We have these things that come up. I find it difficult to be, and I know a lot of people do, creative when there’s uncertainty that impacts our lives in such deep ways. I’m hearing you say, like, you don’t want to allow these things to live rent-free in your brain.
You have to treat, in the midst of everything that goes on in life, your creative process like it’s what gets done every day, whether or not you want to do it.
There will never be a time in your life when you’re not struggling with something, either your health, or someone you love’s health, or a larger issue, or a financial stress, or a work deadline stress, or any number of things, especially if you’re in this free fall of an art and creative life. As much as is possible, you just get up every day that is available to you and start the process of doing the work. You don’t wait for inspiration, that finds you working. You don’t wait for the brilliant idea, because you will never be able to make a perfect painting. People are always trying to expect so much of each piece that comes out of them. It almost pushes them into inactivity.
I’ve seen it. It’s also happened to me. You said this, inspiration finds you working, and I’ve heard it said in another way, which is mostly about writing, but you don’t wait for an idea and then write it down. You write to get ideas.
To get ideas. Exactly.
I think that’s such a powerful concept, and then, of course, it’s like, what if I’m really struggling and it’s hard for me to sit down? Something that comes again from my world of coaching is this idea of small steps. It’s what I’m hearing you say, “What’s a small step to people?” It’s funny because people are like, my next step is to have the show. That’s a next step. There’s a lot of things that go into that, but a small step for me is three things. It’s something that you can do. It’s something that is completely within your control, like you’re not, “I want someone else to give me this thing,” or “I want to get whatever.” This part I really love is that it takes twenty minutes or less.
The small steps, you just start the start things. Usually, if you sit down and you start working and you say, “It’ll take me twenty minutes or less,” frequently, you’ll find yourself working for many hours, even if you just start with that thought of, “I’m just going to sit down here.”
In 2016, I remember I sent you a painting, and you gave me some feedback on developing my ability in rendering and drawing faces, and that’s exactly what I did. I sat down at the coffee shop on the way home, and I sat for twenty minutes. But sometimes that twenty minutes is two hours.
Just give yourself small bites.
Sometimes I didn’t even know, I just sat down and had a pencil and just started putting work on the paper. I think that it’s just so important to do that, especially when we’re feeling so stuck, just to do something. It isn’t necessarily, if you’re not a painter, it could be writing a haiku, it could be dancing in your living room, like whatever that is for you.
Whatever it is. Whatever the practice is that you engage with.
I’m looking at the clock, and we got to close things down here. I always love talking to you, which I’ve had the good fortune of doing for many years, but if other folks are interested in finding you, your work, or, we’ve talked about SmArt School, which is an amazing art program, which people can take online, I’m going to post all the links in the show notes. Where can people go to find you? Where would you like people to go find you?
The two platforms that are most active are Instagram and Facebook. My Instagram, I usually will repost the elsewheres that I can be found on. I’m giving Blue Sky a try. I like Blue Sky. It’s got a good vibe, but Instagram is probably the most pertinent one.
We’ll post that link in the notes, but Rebecca, thank you so much for joining us and your thoughts on living a creative life and how change can happen quick and slow.
Thank you, Marc. It’s always great to see you and talk with you.
Same. We’ll talk soon.
Rebecca Léveillé Guay is a contemporary artist known for her figurative works that blend art historical influences, magical surrealism, and contemporary cultural imagery. Formerly celebrated as an illustrator in the 1990s and early 2000s, she transitioned from commercial work to focus on personal and gallery painting, creating pieces that explore sensuality, the female gaze, and cultural mythologies.
Her work has been exhibited in prominent galleries and museums nationwide, including the Delaware Art Museum, Jonathan Levine Gallery, and Corey Helford Gallery, and was featured in the 2020–2021 Bennett Prize national museum tour. Léveillé Guay’s recent solo show, The Queen of Mars (2023), garnered praise from Pulitzer Prize-winning art critic Jerry Saltz.
She is preparing for her next solo show, to be exhibited with Philippe Labaune in NYC for spring 2025.
In addition to her practice as an artist she is also the creator of SmArt School (est 2011), an interactive online art mentorship program geared towards training artists on a professional track.
She works in New York City and Savannah GA.