Moody Artist

Excitedly Terrified

Or terrifiededly excited? This time last year, I was kicking off my first year as a professional artist.  I was just getting ready to hit the road to do the Dogwood Arts Festival in Knoxville, TN.  And I was absolutely terrified.  Of what?  Of failing at something that I want so badly to succeed.  Well, I did 35 shows during 2010 and managed to sell a bunch of paintings, prints and notecards.  I met a lot of great people; collectors, fellow artists, and browsers.  I endured the hottest summer in recorded history, setting up a heavy tent in 98 degree heat and sitting long hours in said tent in said heat.  I pushed this arthritic back into lifting, toting, and dragging heavy equipment from car to booth space and back to car again.  I enjoyed spending quality time with family and friends because I was able to do shows in Tennessee, North Carolina, and Michigan  I read many, many books on CD in my car and saw so much beauty from behind the windshield.  I ate hundreds of peanut butter sandwiches, drank gallons upon gallons of water (with Crystal Light lemonade flavor!), munched on bushels of apples, and downed many post-show beers and glasses of wine.

And not even to mention all the wonderful time spent in front of the easel!  While 2010 was a terrible year for many people, it was one of the most stressful and enjoyable years of my life.

Now I ready for Episode Two - 2011.  I've got a full slate of shows for the next few months.  My tent and equipment have been oiled and cleaned  and are ready for the road.  I've got a lot of new work, including a few new oil paintings!  I've got a stack of promotional postcards and a long mailing list of people to send them to.  Still got the arthritic back, but I think my recent weight training has built up some more muscle.  I've got experience under my belt and confidence in my work.  I know how to pack my paintings so that the glass doesn't break and how to pack my car so that everything fits (just barely!).  I'm looking forward to going back to some shows I did last year and trying some new shows.

But I'm still terrified.  I have sunk every dime, every thought, every scrap of my being into creating and selling my work.  I have no hobbies.  I have no social life.  I have no disposable income.  I have no Plan B.  This is my everything.  If this fails, I won't exist.  Everything is at stake, so I mustn't fail.  Rotten economy or not, I must make this work. 

Something new for Spring:

  "In the Fields", pastel, 10 x 6 

  $300 framed, $200 unframed

New Beginnings

I've put aside the pastels and have started working in oils. I never thought I would type those words.  I love the vibrancy and immediacy of pastels, always have, always will.  But lately, I've been bumping my head against some of the limitations of pastels.  Like how difficult it is to get a real sharp edge.  At this time of year, the tree branches are skinny and spindly and don't like to be drawn in with a thick pastel.  Even using pastel pencils hasn't given me the effect that I'm looking for.  I'm looking for graceful, yet delicate lines with some hard edges.  When I look at bare tree branches, they're dark against a milky white sky.  But I can't quite seem to get the branches dark and crisp enough with pastels.  Lately, I've longed to paint these branches with a fully loaded, tapered brush.

So I bought an inexpensive starter oil set, toned up a few inexpensive panels, selected a few simple inexpensive subjects and dove in.  And wow!  I mean WOW!  I can't get enough of the juiciness of paint.  The vast vocabulary of brushes.  The endless combinations and permutations of mixed colors.  Yes, my first efforts are a little clumsy, but I'm very pleased with them.  I expected so much more effort and so much less satisfaction.  So now, I'm full-bore into oil painting. 

And it is a bit of a struggle because there are some signficant differences between working in oil and working in pastel.  Namely:

Drying time:  it's simply not a factor in pastels, but something I have to consider with oil.  I can't just finish an oil painting in the morning, frame it in the afternoon and sell it that weekend.  Working wet in wet versus dry also lends many different possibilities.  I also have to think ahead and make sure that I've got plenty of toned, dry panels ready for painting marathons. (But it does give me time to do some blogging!  I'm writing this now, while I wait for some paint to dry!)

Cleaning stuff:  I absolutely hate having to deal with medium and solvents.  I'm desparately trying to figure out how to get things clean without having the turpenoid go down the sink.  I'm using Turpenoid Natural, which is expensive, but supposedly safe for me and the environment.

Different types of hues:  I'm learning the difference between opaque and transparent paint.  Again, not a factor in pastels.

Blending on a palette:  With pastels, I blended my colors right on the paper, usually with the tip of my little finger.  With oils, I need to lean how to use a palette.  Which also requires keeping it organized and clean.  Very helpful:  Palette Skills video at Jerry's Artarama.  Just a few minutes long, but Mike Rooney's demonstration of basic palette skills is something I haven't seen covered in any book. 

Framing: Haven't yet framed any of my oils yet, but I'm looking forward to NOT worrying about having the right mat and NOT having to deal with glass!  And NOT having to throw away a mat because it got too smudged!

Photographing oil paintings:  Can't just slap them on the scanner like I do my smaller pastels!  I tried it and the scanner picked up every little canvas bump. So for now, I'm just going to do my best to photograph them, but I'll need to deal with this as I get more photo-worthy oil paintings under my belt.

All these gripes remind me of when I was learning pastels.  I remember being completely intimidated by the hundreds of colors, shapes, sizes, and softnesses available.  But now using pastels is a natural to me as brushing my teeth, so I'm hoping that oils will eventually have the same degree of comfort. 

It's a new year, a new season, and I'm learning a new language in which to express my love for the natural world.  It's so exciting to discover this new and ancient medium.  But I'm not giving up pastels entirely.  They'll always be my first love.  When I do break out the boxes, I'm hoping that I'll have learned some new things from working in oil that will allow me to push the pastels ever further.

If it feels good, do it!

That’s my strategy for getting through the winter, do what feels good.  This is a direct contrast with last winter’s strategy, which had structure and discipline and all that grownup stuff.  Well, that strategy didn’t mesh too well with the triple blizzard weather we had, plus….it was too much like work.  And at the end of it, I didn’t really have a lot of work to show for it.  I did do some nice pieces, but I expected more.  The best thing about last winter was that I was able to stave off the winter depression that I usually have.  Instead, I had anxiety over my first season doing art shows, but I’ll take that over the blues any day.

This year is different, however.  I’m firming up my schedule of shows for the spring and I’ll be back to some of my favorites.  So I really want to show some new work, because people do remember what they saw in your tent last time.  Also, I’m really on a nice roll painting in the studio.  I’ve finished up some of the work I started in Arizona last November and I feel good about what I’m seeing.  So I’ve got to keep painting, and to do that, I’m going to paint what and where the mood takes me. 

Maybe because it’s been so darn cold, but I’m really enjoying working on my Arizona paintings.  The bright colors are fun to work with and I love the shapes of the red rocks.  Looking at the pictures always makes me smile because it reminds me of a really fun and productive trip.  So, even though these paintings will probably not sell here in the East, I’m doing them anyway.  I’ll get back to more profitable work soon enough.  Just want to enjoy this streak as long as it lasts!

Here's some new stuff:

  "Bell Rock"  pastel, 9 x 6 $100 unframed

 

 

 

Should I stay or should I go?

The last few weekends have been fraught with stress for this self-employed artist.  Do I set up my tent at Clarendon Market (Saturdays) or Eastern Market (Sundays) and spend all day in the cold and wind, hoping to sell a painting or two?  Or do I stay home and hide under the covers of my grandmother’s antique quilt with a good book?  One Sunday it was 25 degrees, gusty winds, but sunny and clear.  I went to Eastern Market and froze my face off.  Literally.  When I got home, I noticed my cheeks and chin were raw and bleeding from the exposure.  And I didn’t sell anything either.  This Saturday, I enjoyed 40 degree temps, no wind, with partial cloudy skies.  Much easier, but still: no people.  It was a ghost town, probably due to the holiday weekend.  So no sales there either.  I keep hearing about folks who have good sales during the winter, so this inspires me to get my stuff out there.  And there’s a lot to be said for just getting out there and keeping my selling muscles flexed.  But it really takes a toll on this 54 year old.  Both weekends required a full day of rest to recover my energy.  And there’s always the dread of coming down with a bad cold or flu.  Now that I’m not as well insured as I used to be, I really need to stay healthy and out of the doctor’s office.  But on the other hand, (I think I’m up to four hands now), if you don’t get out there, you don’t sell.  Each time I’ve gone out there, I’ve had people look at my work, like it a lot and ask if I’ll be back next week.  I say I’ll try, so I hate to miss them.  I’m picturing hordes of art lovers with the checkbooks in their pockets, looking for my booth—and I’m not there!  So this is what runs through my mind when I look at the weather forecast for the weekend. 

In the meantime, I’ve started finishing up paintings that I started when I was out in Arizona last November.  Here’s one that I just love.  I hope this painting warms you.

  

 

 

 

 

"Morning Light"

pastel, 8 x 6

$200 framed, $100 unframed

Note:  for some reason, this scan turned out really crappy.  It's 300 dpi, but still looks bad.  Please take that in condideration!  If you'd like to see it in the flesh(?), please stop by Kelly's Art and Frame in Alexandria, VA where it is on exhibit until February 23rd.  You can also see that it's in a beautiful frame that I bought from Kelly!

 

 

November's Golden Glow

November is my absolute favorite month of the year.  The weather has finally cooled down to make outdoor walks and painting something besides a sweat-drenched endurance contest.  The sun is still high enough in the sky to be bright, but has a burnished golden glow that warms the heart, if not the air.  And this year, I spent the first two weeks of it in Arizona!

George and I decided that this was a good time to take care of two bucket list items:  seeing the Grand Canyon and seeing Monument Valley.  Both were well worth the trip and both were absolutely breathtaking, to use a cliched term.  As a painter, I was completely intimidated by the panoramic beauty.  I painted in both places, but didn’t paint worth a darn.  It would take me months of observation to feel comfortable with the landscape, so I guess I’ll just have to go back and stay longer!

I spent the second week in Sedona, taking a painting workshop conducted by Michael Chesley Johnson.  Our topic was large-format plein air painting, which I used to think of as an oxymoron.  When I paint outdoors, I usually don’t go any bigger than 9 x 12 because the light shifts too quickly to work larger.  So this was a real challenge, and a real opportunity to dive off the high dive under the guidance of a good lifeguard.  Michael has already written some good words here and here about the why and how of large format plein air painting on his blog.  All that I can add to that is that it really helps to know your landscape if you’re going to work big.  You need to know where the sun is going to shift and what will be revealed or concealed when it does.  It’s helpful to know how big or small the shadows are going to be in an hour.  I was very fortunate to be painting with Michael, who hand-picked some beautiful spots in Sedona for us to paint.  He provided all of that guidance as well as some great tips and encouragement.  I was scared to go large at first, but my lifeguard was there for me! 

I’m still working on finishing up the paintings that I started in Arizona, but here’s a picture of one happy camper.  Here I am, in my heaven.  The golden glow of November surrounds me then and still.

  

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Michael Chesley Johnson

Fresh Catch of the Day

Well, August is gone and so is September.  Both of my August PA shows were fair to middling in that I covered my booth fee, and some of my expenses.  Good thing I've got low expectations this year.  I met great people doing both shows and enjoyed some beautiful PA scenery.  But didn't make much money. 

The Del Ray Artisans show in Alexandria, VA was a different story.  A low-key, one day show right in my own back yard, I made over $800!  I sold several large framed works, several small studies, and a bunch of notecards.  I had several collectors buying more than one item (a first).  A delightful show all around.  I felt like a rock star all weekend long (even though Eastern Market the very next day was a bust!)

Then the drought hit.  I had two disastrous out of town shows.  My Indiana show, complete with 12 hour drive, earned me only $29 all weekend long!  The town was lovely, the weather superb, the show volunteers were top-notch in their friendliness. Just no foot traffic.  The quietest show I've done yet.  My VA Beach show was only 3 hours away and allowed me to spend time with my good friend Denise.  I had a lovely view of the beach from my booth on the boardwalk.  And I doubled my sales!  Yep, made a big $54 all weekend long.  Lots of people, but not an art buying crowd.  Maybe I would have done better with a better spot, but I don't know. 

But I did take advantage of my beautiful view.  Here's some pix of my booth.  Is that a gorgeous view or what?  Since I wasn't busy making sales, I had plenty of time to draw the view from my booth.  I brought my colored pencils and did two nice little drawings of the beach scene and finished up an apple still life.  And since I had nothing to lose, I stuck them on my table and called them the "Fresh Catch of the Day" and put a $15.00 price on them.  Whaddya know, I sold the two beach scenes  right off the bat.  Those were my big sales, so good thing I kept myself busy!

      

Not August's fault

It’s August, so that means I’m stuck in the middle of the August blahs.  August is my second least favorite month of the year, topped only by February.  The only thing that saves August from top (dis)honors is that my dear sweet sister Cathy has her birthday in August and I feel guilty every time I complain about how August totally sucks. 

This year, I had high hopes for August.  It started out with a bang at the Cooper River Fine Art Festival in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.  That’s a new show for that location and it was very nice.  I made some good money and sold one of my favorite New Mexico paintings to a nice couple who also cherished New Mexico. 

That was followed by two disastrous shows:  the Del Ray Artisans August show in Alexandria, VA and Eastern Market in DC.  The DRA show was very pleasant, sunny, and BELOW 90 degrees!  I’ve done well at this show in the past months, so I had high hopes. Alas, very little foot traffic.  I had totally forgotten how what a ghost town the DC Metro area turns into in August.  Eastern Market the next weekend was a bust because it poured the rain about an hour after I set up and kept on and off all afternoon.  I finally threw in the sopping wet towel at around 1pm; packed up and left.

However, my August blues are NOT August’s fault.  It’s my fault.  I need to find a way to deal with the ups and downs of my new business.  I need to find a way to still maintain a positive attitude even when I don’t sell paintings.  It’s easy to be happy after a good show; it’s essential to be happy after bad show.  This is not a new challenge for me, since my mood has always been greatly influenced by the quality of my painting life.  When the painting’s good, I'm on the moon.  When the painting’s a struggle, I’m down in the dumps. 

Luckily, I'm not far away from my next show.  This weekend, I’m at the Mt. Gretna Fine Arts Festival, in Mt. Gretna, Pennsylvania (just outside of Harrisburg).  Lots of pluses here:  nice weather forecasted, show has a good reputation, not a long drive, staying at a charming B&B, show has admission fee (means that crowd will be more serious art buyers).  And the biggest plus of all?   My dear sweet sister Cathy’s birthday is this Saturday!  I’ll be thinking of her all weekend as I’m (hopefully) selling paintings!

Happy Birthday, Cathy! Bring me some luck this weekend!

Here’s a new painting for you to enjoy. 

"Tomorrow's Breakfast"

7 x 5, pastel

$100 framed

Michigan Tales

I’m back from doing two shows in the great state of Michigan.  I did the Pinckney Art in the Park show and the Flint Art Fair.  Both shows were enjoyable, the Flint show especially so, since I sold six! SIX !SIX! Paintings!  Yes, in Flint, Michigan!  Who says it’s a depressed area?  The people were great and really came out to support the show and the Flint Institute of Art.

I stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast, the Avon House Bed and Breakfast. Saturday night, I came back to the B&B, hot, tired, and sweaty, looking forward to a tepid shower and the cold beer I had tucked away in my mini-fridge.  When I tried to crank up the AC, nothing happened.  When I turned on the light, nothing happened.  Power outage!  A transformer blew and left us without power for several hours.  That day, it had been unusually hot and humid for Flint.  So the upper story of the house was roasting.  Luckily Arletta’s house had a nice wraparound porch, where she and I retired with candles and our laptop computers.  The temperature dropped quickly and a brisk breeze provided natural ventilation.  I was too tired to do much on my laptop, so I shut it down and enjoyed the evening.  When I looked down the street, nearly every house that had a front porch (which was nearly every house) had people, candles, and conversation going on.  So old-fashioned, but it refreshed me in more ways than one.  Around 10pm, the lights came on and the evening was over.  And yes, I did crank up the AC and break out the beer.

The next morning, I was at the show site, enjoying the artist’s breakfast.  I was sitting at a big table with a couple of the other exhibitors.  To my right was a nicely dressed, soft spoken lady who lived in downtown Flint in a recently renovated condo. She was telling us how nice it was to be able to walk to places and not to have to worry about taking care of property.  To this, my neighbor to the left, said “Well, I like to pee in my front yard!  Good thing I didn’t have a mouthful of coffee when he said that!  He has 18 acres on which he and his wife life and create their metal sculptures. 

My Michigan shows were a good example of everything that I love about doing art shows: meeting interesting people, enjoying beautiful scenery, and selling paintings.  The time between the two shows I did some new paintings, one of which I sold at the Flint show, which is why I don’t have a picture for you.  Did I mention yet that I sold SIX paintings at Flint? Many of the people thanked ME for being there to do the show.  People of Flint, the pleasure was all mine.

But will it match my sofa?

I’ve heard many times from people that they’re looking for art that matches their sofa/carpet/furniture/whatever.  I’ve also heard people say that they love this or that painting, but it wouldn’t look good in their living room/dining room/bedroom/wherever.  When I hear this, I want to go a little crazy.  Here’s my .02 cents worth:

If you love a painting, buy it even if it won’t match a thing in your house.  You’d be surprised at how good something that you love will go with everything else.  Over the years, you’ll change the color of your sofa/carpet/walls/whatever, so if you buy something simply because it looks good now, it might not look good later on when you change your décor.  But if it’s something that you love, you’ll never get tired of looking at it.

Art that is made to match a home’s furnishings is décor, and there’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what you’re looking for.  I don’t sell décor.  If one of my paintings happens to match your sofa, then that’s a happy accident.  But I hope that if you change your living room from modern to French provincial, you’ll still love looking at the painting that you bought from me.

Now, having said all that, if you find a painting that you love, but you’re afraid that it will look out of place in your home, there are some things that you can consider that might help it to fit in.  Consider the frame, if it is already framed.  If the frame matches your furniture and looks good in its setting, it will help whatever is in it to fit into place.  That is, provided the frame doesn’t conflict or overshadow the art.  Let the frame be a bridge between your décor and the art.  I will always work with a buyer to find a frame that works for them.  I can reframe a work or sell a work unframed at a discount.  I would much rather take something off the price and keep the frame for another work, then have you throw away the frame when you get home. 

And while I’m at it, I recently sold several paintings unframed. Pastel paintings are delicate, but they can take some handling, more than you might think.  I packaged the work as carefully as possible, but I still worry that they might have had a bit of bruising on the way home.  If they need a bit of touch-up, I am always happy to do that.  Contact me and I’ll make arrangements to touch-up the painting at no charge to you. 

The Down and Up of Things

Reason #1 why I should blog more often:  so I won’t have to combine two completely opposite topics into one post. 

The Down:  my mother and aunt live in Nashville and were flooded out of their homes.  They lost everything on the first floor of their homes.  But both are okay and are now working with my sisters and brothers-in-law and many other helpful people to file the right paperwork, hire the right contractors, remove the debris and rebuild their homes.  My mom said that it has been amazing how helpful people have been to them—whole families of complete strangers have pitched in to help them clean up.  Here’s a link to a video that my brother-in-law sent me.  It is absolutely heartbreaking for me to watch.  I’d have been over there as fast as my car could take me, but Mom insisted that I stay here, work my shows, and have a good time.  Which I have done, but every other thought has been a prayer for strength and help for the people of Nashville, especially Mom and Aunt Doris Ann.

The Up:  While Mom was cleaning out her home, I was exhibiting at the Gosport Art Festival in Portsmouth, Virginia.  It was a wonderful show.  I met many lovely people and the people who ran the show treated us exhibitors like royalty.  And—I won an award!  Much to my surprise, I won the A.B. Jackson award for my painting “Reflections on Fall.”  Yes, the big one that you can see a few blogposts down, won an award!  The award commemorates Norfolk artist A. B. Jackson.  He was the first African American to get an MFA from Yale and the first to exhibit at the Boardwalk Art Festival in Virginia Beach.  He was highly respected, especially in the Tidewater area.  On Sunday, I was proud to display my ribbon, which prompted several people to share their recollections of A.B. Jackson.  I am honored to receive his award—the first award that I have won for my art!