Further Adventures in Decluttering

The actual surface of my worktable/desk is now visible, for the first time in several moons. In the course of sorting the papers I updated the contacts list, filed away anything to do with the art fair and the gallery, plus other filing for household and medical. Once the gallery closes in January, it's gonna be so much simpler around here. It already is with the sense of finality that I filed the art fair papers. I will no doubt have to get a couple of boxes to hold files from old jobs. The most important thing to keep at hand is the contact list, which is digital to start with. The rest of it is done done done! I do look with a bit of sadness on the gallery-related things, especially the business cards. But Steve is increasing his workload by leaps and bounds and it won't do to have his workspace interrupted anymore. I am so ready to move on to just painting.

There is a Curves exercise joint just around the block from here, and I've decided I can face joining it. My weight is where I want it, but my strength is kaput. It seems like a gentle enough program, it's nearby, and it is not expensive. The 70-something woman who was showing me how the machines work could do the workout in 30 minutes without strain. I could barely do 1/3 of it and was almost sick from the effort afterwards. So Very Slow will be my motto for the first few weeks. Steve is amazed that I actually did it. Actually, so am I. I really want to have more strength in my legs and arms, protect my joints, and maybe have a little more stamina. We'll see.

Sorting Out Approaches

I've spent a lot of time lately researching different approaches to painting careers, and taking stock of just what kind of art I am doing and which direction best suits it. My academic background started me off on an academic approach, one I didn't question until Steve came into my life. The academic approach was rife with angst and difficulties on many levels, and was rarely, if ever, satisfying because it only works if you are working and showing in areas which support that approach. An academic approach in isolation only feeds one's sense of alienation.

Now, my first love was music. I still love it, insofar as I am still able to hear it. I have a strong intuitive, visceral response to it, and to this day a synaesthetic response, as color and light make me hear music in my head and vice-versa. When I paint from the solar plexus, I paint muscially. Compositions are determined as muscially as they are visually. I don't do this in an academic approach, because it requires that I approach from the head, from an analytical point of view rather than from intuitive knowledge. It is much more difficult to "know" when the work is going well or has the "it" factor, and thus, for me, the process is much less satisfying.

Steve got me to shake off the academic approach and paint from a pure art-element approach. Over time it looks less and less like his work and more and more decidedly like my own as I tap into the intuitive knowledge I have rather than the academic blather and its attendant negativity from my past. Thus, the things I've been painting are completely me.

The most amazing thing about all of this is the fact that so many different kinds of people really like my work and buy it. This is the best thing that has come out of the gallery and the art fair--given a wide range of art to choose from, more people have purchased my work than any other single artist's. Of course my prices are not overly high, but I've topped $400 for a 24 x 36, and the market around here is not particularly wealthy. Thus I have gained the confidence to keep painting and to start planning to enter art fairs and other venues where art in my price range and style is likely to sell. They haven't bought my art because they feel sorry for me.

That last sentence isn't a joke. On and off over the course of my life I have been treated like the village idiot because of my deafness, and to this day there are many people who are either nervous around me or who want to patronize me, treat me like a charity case. Nick and I were talking about this yesterday, as certain parties of our mutual acquaintance are unquestionably freaked out by my communication difficulty. I can see why such a provincial attitude was prevalent in rural areas in the 50's and 60's, but in the 21st century with everyone and everything out there and in your face, it seems ridiculous. Yet there it is, and thus I still have good reason to look gift horses in the mouth.

Anyway, the musical and intuitive connection is important, and I'm trying to work it into an artist's statement, which is sadly lacking on both my resume and website. So I am going to stop researching grants and such and just focus on painting and expanding real-world connections to art fairs and galleries. Our friend Dennis Davis, who is himself a well-established artist who sells his work at the larger art fairs for thousands of dollars, has said repeatedly that my work would do well at the fairs. He's a good businessman and hard-headed about markets. If this is the art that suits me best to paint, then I'd best take it to where it's likely to be most appreciated.

Under the Big Top

Having my second cuppa coffee this morning and looking over my calendar and to-do lists, and it's suddenly hit me just how far-reaching strategic decisions can be. In this case, not worrying about the gallery or art fair anymore is going to greatly cut back the time I have spent on record-keeping and bookkeeping and filing. Many artists find it hard going to keep track of their own contact lists and records, and I've been doing this not only for myself, but for Steve's design business, for the gallery, for the art fair, and for our general household. I've put as much on the computer as humanly possible, but I'm still drowning in stacks of paper every week which much be sorted, then ditched or filed. There's a mess on the top of my desk even now. Combine this with keeping the house more or less ready to show at a short notice, keeping the garden and the exterior weeded and presentable, and keeping on top of our medical needs and dietary needs, running all the errands and budget shopping, all on top of communication difficulties and frequent days of limited mobility and energy, and no it's wonder I am burned out. I just don't have the space in my head-circus anymore for so many different rings of activity.

All this activity has only been marginally profitable, so the Big Top hasn't been giving enough back to us either in terms of money or good will. So no, the Show doesn't need to Go On, not in that fashion. It's silly. Many good things have come out of it, have laid the foundation for the next phase, but it is time now to work smarter instead of harder, and I just know this is going to pay off.

Feeling the Weight Lifting & Flying Away

So we had the talk about the art fair and gallery, an honest but friendly exchange of ideas and feelings. Steve was more than happy to shut down the gallery, less so about the art fair, much as I predicted. But we kept talking and rolling around some ideas, and in fairly short order we had it all sorted out: we will keep the online shop, have the one final scheduled gallery opening reception at the end of October, and announce that we are taking a year off from doing the art fair. We both need to cut back on the range of our activities, and it is clear that we must concentrate on the efforts that will help us most financially. If someone comes along and wants to take up the art fair from us, that is just fine with us. We will offer only our own art online plus just that of a few others, basically acting as dealers rather than gallery owners, which is fine, as that part keeps us networking but doesn't require quite the same time & space commitments.

Just as we came to this conclusion our friend Jack stopped by and was the first recipient of the news. He wasn't the least bit surprised, and had been wondering when we would finally burn out!

So now I am almost delirious with the freedom, knowing that I no longer have to worry about getting enough people to participate in and come to the art fair, nor do I have to worry about lining up shows for the gallery or all the expenses. I can paint! Just paint! And I am free to take on a writing assignment here and there. It's going to be easier than ever to live thoroughly in the moment.

Steve, too, feels relief that after the next show he doesn't have to disrupt his working space or schedule anymore. He can now spread out as much as he wants and needs, and is already contemplating another workstation. And he also likes the idea that we can now have more room in our lives for things that aren't art- or work-related. Jack was talking about a group of us forming a monthly Game Night and we are actually looking forward to this, where we would otherwise have been thinking it's Something Else we need to make time & energy for.

Trying to Pinpoint What's Bugging Me

It's not often I get into this particular mood, a sort of unease caused by being conflicted, but when I do, it's a dilly. Basically, the conflict is that my head says to keep going with the art fair and gallery, and my heart says "no more." I did some numbers-crunching when updating the bookkeeping, and my art is more profitable than either of the other activities. However, those sales would not have happened without the other activities, particularly the art fair. But that is just the local market. The local market is small and easily saturated. A wider market is necessary, and this means more paintings need to be painted, and more time needs to be spent on getting them into areas that are not part of the local market. I only have so much time and energy, which doesn't improve with age. At this point the head and heart agree--"you should paint."

The issue is at the forefront because if we keep on with the art fair, which Steve wants to do because he feels it keeps us in the local public eye, and thus is the cheapest yet most effective means of advertising while doing some public good, we need to establish the date of the next one and start making it official and generally known. The garden club meeting is coming up next weekend, and it would be necessary to announce our intentions for next year's fair, whether we will continue to hold it at the same time/place as the garden walk, if we are changing the date or venue, or if we are even having it at all.

The conflict is bugging me, which is not good for my painting. Steve & I are going to sit down later today and talk about it some more, and I hope we can agree on something that will ease this sense of conflict.

In the meantime Nick and Amy are back from their trip and trying to settle into some kind of comfortable routine, but as he has dental surgery tomorrow and law school starting up the week after this, it might be a while yet before they know any sort of equilibrium. We are all such creatures of habit.

The Dust is Settling

As it turned out, I sold 5 of the 8 new paintings and could have sold two of them several times. So any doubts about the appeal of the new work can rest. I've started on a new one, quite large, but it had to be interrupted because of a wedding in the family.

Nick and his Amy got married last Friday and it was a wonderful wedding, not too large, not too small, both traditional and yet laid back. I saw people I haven't seen in fifteen or twenty years, especially Nick's friends from childhood. Our own group was small, just my parents and our friends Al and Alice and Jack and Paul, but we had a good time. I got all dressed up and felt I looked my best, and I got to dance with the groom--for the first time ever, actually, as neither one of us is a dancer in the traditional sense. It was all very exciting and very emotional, and so painting was not going to happen until my brain settled down and my body recovered from the running around and the high-heeled shoes.

Just as the SUV broke down right before the art fair, the car broke down right before the wedding. It is ironic that we had to use the car for hauling things for the art fair and the truck to drive in formal clothes to the wedding, but that's the way it went. I think the vehicles were experiencing sibling rivalry. Anyway, we just got the car back today, and both vehicles are running well. The expense was huge for both and I've decided to put off getting a new pair of glasses for a while.


Apart from that, I feel quite content and optimistic, probably because I'm painting directly from my heart, because Nick has grown into a wonderful young man, and even my parents can see that all really is well in terms of the fundamentals. A big part of me wants to lose the gallery and the art fair, in order to keep things as simple as possible, but I might have to compromise on that. We'll see how things go.