In my last post I talked about scaling things down a notch regarding the amount of art supplies I’d been buying. Art means a great deal to me, and I’ve always said it’s a modest cure for my mental health; alas, late bills and rent have become part of the equation too. I sold a piece of my comfort and did something I never imagined I would do — and that was the plan all along. Lately I’ve been working on a lot of small canvases, unable to unleash my full creative range. I wanted to offer work people didn’t have to spend their hard‑earned money on, a cheaper way of doing things, but it’s only added to my frustration. I’ve gone over more than twenty canvases maybe three or four times each, never truly satisfied (no surprises there). They’re now drying in my shed, and I’ve had to accept that difficult cutoff: they are finished, Dave!
Today I went to the art store thinking I would save money by painting on A3 acrylic paper and buying less expensive paints. I walked into the shop in a good mood and left staring at my receipt for two hundred dollars, surprised that I had spent so much on paints and paper. Usually I spend even more across my two weekly trips, but I hadn’t intended to do this on the cheap, and all I’m left with is this haul. I typically pick up plenty of other items during my rampage down the art aisle. Lately I’ve developed a bit of a fetish for brushes, and not the cheap kind. Every visit I seem to load up on them, which is ironic because I hardly ever use brushes—I favor palette knives instead, and I’ve built up a modest collection of those as well.
I need to take a break, guys. I said this in my last post, but now it’s required. I am always creating, and when I’m not, I’m thinking about it and planning my next elaborate painting marathon that so rarely ends up how I envisioned. It’s a constant up-and-down rollercoaster when it comes to art. Sure, my mental health is important, but I tend to only remember the good times. There are plenty of doubtful, self-loathing, painful, soul-crushing periods too. I guess this is what happens when you’re an art junkie who lives and breathes the work.
I’m going to tie these smaller canvases up, photograph them properly, and upload them to my websites in the hope of getting some bites. If I don’t — which would be less desirable — I may have to shut up shop and try to make this more of a casual small business or a hobby where I sell one piece here and there. Maybe it’s time I rethink my lifelong dream. I truly get where the “frustrated artist” motto came from.