It’s been a little while since my last entry. No excuses — I’ve been lazy, unmotivated and procrastinating more than I care to admit. I could try to say I’ve been busy, but that would be a convenient lie. I finally found a small spark of creativity and a brief burst of energy over the last couple of days, though even that has started to fade. As in many past instances, I’m not overly pleased with the outcome; I’m thinking of calling the current work “layer one” and then continuing to add to the canvases as the paint dries and my ideas settle. I’m not chasing perfection, but, as usual, I’m trying to find a balance between what I genuinely enjoy creating and what might actually sell — it’s a hard line to walk. The ideal mentality would be to make what pleases me and treat any sales or interest as a welcome bonus, which would feel more honest. The label “artist” still sounds a little grandiose, and I’ve long avoided it, but I’m becoming slightly more comfortable saying it: I am an artist, and I’m selling a fair amount of work. These days everyone seems to call themselves an artist; the mobile phone and cheap camera have shifted expectations and displaced some photographers, since so much can be done with a device that fits in a pocket. There will always be photographers who stand out and create exceptional work — some might even have done it with an iPhone. Artificial intelligence is spreading rapidly, too, and it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what isn’t; I find I can’t fully trust every image or claim anymore. Meanwhile, people tinker away in basements, post on social media and go through daily routines and exercises, often blurring the line between hobby and passion. Am I being honest with myself about all this? I’m still working that out. I don’t have a dedicated studio — just my small corner at home where I try to carve out a little aria of focus. If I had a million dollars I’d want a large studio space, a proper bed and a bathroom; then I’d feel set. But honestly, even if I were making six figures, nothing would really change — I’d keep creating as if I were a poor man, because that’s how I work best.
Three is one issue I am helpless against. Up until six months ago I had my own small studio. This was an initiative of Dad who set me a up a paint storage unit and bult me an easel. I had a collection of over one one thousand dollars of paints and I invested tons of canvas in. I’m embarrassed to say I have had a brush fattish. I very time I visit the store left with a bundle of expressive paint brushes. I hardly ever use a brush, I’m more of a pallet knife man It just gives me ease to know that I have the brushes and a few dozen knives.. Same wither other artist stock. I spend a lot of money guys and I wonder how much I of this I will get. I’m about the prices on my work breaking even, I was loosing money! I have the experience, I have a showcase of works and I’m passionate about what I create. I think I can start bumped the prices. Up so it makes all happy. At this point I have been screwing myself. Even if I don’t make a sale, at least I know I’ve put a reasonable, yet fair amount to picket up more supplies. That feels better than selling them so cheap.