I cut off my children today. I simply had too many and they were taking up room in the house and sheds. It was time for them to move out into the world. We're talking about my canvases of course. Please don’t call the children’s welfare line on me. I don’t really have babies or children of my own thank God. We’re talking dozens of large 92cm x 92cm canvases (I never use any other size than this) They were taking up space in every room in the house and it’s not even my house! I had to watch person after person come through the house and take my sweethearts for a price I deliberately made extremely low simply to shift the work fast. I don’t usually talk my art up but there was some good stuff that I let go for less than what the piece cost me to create. Some would come in wanting one I advertised and ended up walking out with a few. I also admit to having some poorer work that I was happy to let go of. Not many people know anything when it comes to art (me included!)
This whole process left me feeling refreshed at the end of the day. More room for more canvases. I sold most of my work for a tenth of what I had it listed as on this site but I ended up with a few dollars in my pocket and there is something romantic to think of all of the art that I moved featured on someone’s wall. As average as some of these pieces were, I never sign my work, so I don’t have to fear of someone associating it to me. The whole art busiess for me is to create. Almost all of my finished pieces get disgarded pretty quickly. I am rarely happy with what I do. Most of it collects dust, is thrown out or burnt, or someone likes or sees something in my work that I simply doesn’t feel. Art is very subjective and that’s one of the things that alure me to the process of creating. I feel like I’m wasting time if I’m not hard at work. Even when I’m not putting the paint to canvas, my mind is always ticking over. It’s a full-time job! And of course this mostly happens at the early hours of the morning when my insomnia kicks in and I’m desperate for sleep. Trust me.. I know what the troubled and tortured artist goes through.
So here comes the exciting part of this ordeal of loosing my babies - I get to go to the art storer today with a pocket full of coin. I’m like a kid in a candy shop when ever I pay a visit to the store. The staff there know to put aside half a dozen canvases with my name on them, I don’t look at prices either. A small tube of paint can range from 12 dollars to 80 dollars but if I have an idea for a project and I need that overly priced paint I will put it in my basket without a second thought. For most of my work I apply the paint very thick so it starts to add up. As for the canvases.. They cost me $102 each. Maybe you can understand why I get so frustrated with a piece that doesn’t work out. The markup on art supplies is ridiculous. They have no competition in this part of the world so they know idiots like me will make the purchases. Even with my ten percent off, I’m still getting ripped off. I don’t want to share how much I spend on each excursion but it’s significant. I don’t allow myself to feel guilty when it comes to investing in supplies. It does wonders for my mental health, it gives me a reason to get up each morning, I can make a few extra bucks and it gives me purpose. Almost all of the coin I make from selling wok goes back into my art. That’s how I justify it anyway. To sum it up: Life is well and truly too short to not pursue the the things that make you happy. For me it’s my ‘art’ so I never beat myself up over how much I spend. The only bummer is when a piece doesn’t work out the way it was visioned and it gets thrown in the junk pile. These moments are soul breaking and they happen a lot.
I’ve rambled on for way too long. It’s almost 1am and my brain is tuned into GO mode. I wanted to write a piece on selling my work and it has tuned into a different kind of beast. Sometimes I can’t attack the keyboard fast enough. Other times I stare at a blank screen for a long time and even then my work isn’t the best it can be. With all of this winging I guess there is a positive that I must keep reminding myself - People like my work enough to put down their hard earned money and buy something I created. Vincent Van Gogh didn’t sell a paining until he died. Of course he didn’t have the internet either to help show his work off to the world. That brings us to the end of this nonsense. It’s time for bed. On a completely different note I am going into hospital for tests in exactly 8 hours. This has been playing on my mind. I’m getting old people!