Goodbye Graham

When it comes to doing things the proper way, sometimes doing things the wrong way is the way to make things happen.

Yours truly at the Graham Gallery door in Hastings, Ne.

Most, if not all, of the art gurus will tell you that the proper way to approach a gallery for representation is to do some homework on the gallery, create a classy portfolio of the work which would represent you well, and make an appointment for an interview.

Of course, that’s not the way I did it, and from that began a lovely relationship with Angela Graham and Graham Gallery in Hastings Nebraska.

C2007 Cathedral Road, one of my early sales at Graham Gallery

My intention was to drop by quickly, introduce myself, and if I didn’t keel over from pure terror, suggest that my work was available for her gallery walls if she had just a little space to spare. 

Angela asked if I had anything with me she could look at. Since I was on my way home from taking down an exhibit in a nearby town, I had a trunk full of art. Feeling like the Fuller Brush Man, I unloaded nearly all of it into her showroom. A few moments later she agreed to take six or seven pieces and that was that. I recently found a contract she’d given me, neither of us had bothered to sign it.  I’m sure I giggled all the way home.

Much has changed since I stood on shaky legs, fingers crossed behind my back pretending to know what I was doing and hoping Angela would not see the truth. My resume now includes many solo and small group exhibits, commissions and addition to some fine collections, a few awards and a couple of recent profiles in Nebraska Life as well as L-Magazine.

c2014 Blue River Reclamation, a recent oil

This weekend Graham Gallery closed its doors and turned off the lights for the last time. Looking back I am immensely grateful for a kind and gentle introduction to the world of gallery sales.  As I continue to develop my skills and deepen my commitment to my practice I will hold the people and memories of that place in a special spot in my heart.

Great Expectations



Spring Adaptation: Commencement

Sold.

Spring Adaptation: Transition



Sold!

Spring Adaptation: Equilibrium

Sold!

 

 But that's not what this blog post is about.

I've had wonderful opportunities over the last few years to show my work in a variety of venues. After examining my expectations for the last series of exhibits, my take is this:

 

Some days the right buyer – or two or ten – come along, some days they’re off playing miniature golf.

Sometimes, despite our best efforts to exhibit quality fine art and to put our best selves forward, the right buyer doesn’t show up.


Quiet Evening 6x8 oil  Still Available at Lux Center for the Arts

Sometimes, even though our presentation is haphazard and our socks are mismatched, they do.

Quiet Morning 6x8 oil  Sold!

 

The results of the last several years of exhibiting have taught me that my expectations have nothing to do with hope or crossed fingers or anybody else’s vibe.  The expectation is on each of us to do the best work we can. To behave as professionally as we can.

It's not about  reading how-to books or waiting to get started just as soon as the kids are grown up or the dishes are done.

 It's about showing up in my creative spaces ready to go and to do the hard grind so that when the time comes, when the right venue calls or the right patron shows up, I'm ready.

It's about believing in my mission. I trust that my work is the best I can do. That trust extends to the belief that someone else, somewhere will make that connection and agree with me. And if I'm ready, that elusive concept of success will happen.

"Specimen" 7x5 oil Waiting for you at Graham Gallery

What do you expect?

Elements Opening

Oh what a night!

Friday evening was the opening reception for "Elements", an exhibit featuring Harold G. Adams and I at Graham Gallery in Hastings, Ne.

I must admit, the artwork looked fantastic on the original brick walls of Graham Gallery. It's a beautiful space to begin with, and the addition of Harry's amazing lathe-turned vessels along with my oils and pastels made a wonderful combination.

Have a look for yourself -

And the people! 

 

It was a wonderful opportunity to meet new patrons, area artists and friends for an evening of conversation and laughter.  Cinderella couldn't have had a better time.

 

I am grateful to all of you who took time to stop by to see our work this past week.  Your support and interest means so much.

 

You've got a few more weeks to see what Harry and I have been  up to. The show is available at Graham Gallery in Hastings, Ne. Monday - Friday 9:30 to 5:30, and Saturdays 9:30 to 3:00, until Thursday, October 31st. 

 

Then 'poof' it's gone. 

Hay Bales and Sparrows

Greetings All -

A couple of weeks ago I shared a demo piece that  I had started in Valentine, Ne., while sharing a workshop with the Sand Painter's Art Guild. Go ahead and scroll down to the last post, I'll wait.

It was almost done...almost. Those of you who participate in creative endeavors understand that "finished" is a relative term. Sometimes it takes years to be relieved of the itch to make just one more little teeny tiny change that will transform a piece into a masterpiece. Sometimes that itch never goes away.

 This is where I left the demo after adding bales to fill in, and a flock of sparrows to tie in the right and left side.

 I was close. So close. 

And yet. Something was still not quite right.

It took a few hours of hemming and hawing, staring out the window, checking email, doing a few dishes, painting on and wiping off to achieve this:

Just three little dashes of paint with a teeny tiny brush. So what's the big deal?

Those three little swipes of the brush build a bridge from left to right

and continue the sweep of the road upward toward the tree. 

©2013Patricia Scarborough  12x16 oil

It's small, but significant, like a fine silk that holds a lovely garment together. Now I can declare it finis! 

At least I'm pretty sure.

You're invited to see for yourself. This painting and many others will soon be hanging at Graham Gallery in Hastings, Ne. for an exhibit titled "Elements" with wood turner Harold G. Adams. Soon as in October 2nd through October 31st, just a few days away.

Stop by Friday, October 4th from 5 to 8, I'll be there with Harry and you can tell me for yourself; did those three little marks do it?

Plumbing and Painting

If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.       - James Goldsmith

We’ve had some major plumbing done recently. It involved digging giant holes in the yard with complicated machinery and finally a mound of dirt that they promise will settle.

The bill will be enough to raise our eyebrows, of that I have no doubt.

We’re a lot the same, plumbers and painters. We have expenses that others outside the business don’t stop to consider but which still have to be accounted for. We also have skills that others don’t have but wish they did. The better the skill the better the product, and the final price will often raise eyebrows.

Have you ever hired a cheap plumber? Bet you only made that mistake once. 

Handsome Husband and I will pay our plumber on time and sign the check with a flourish because he earned it. We want water, and we want it in the right place at the right time and the exact time we need it. Our plumber has earned his paycheck.

Into the Woods, 6 x 8 oil, $300, available at Burkholder Project, Lincoln, Ne.

 

Buy the fine art you love.

 

 

Coming Home, 11 x 14 oil, $540, available at Norfolk Arts Center, Norfolk, Ne.

 

Don't play cheap.


 

Howard County at Dusk, 6 x 8 oil, $250 available at MONA in Kearney, Ne.

 

Really gorgeous artwork is also available at Graham Gallery in Hastings, Ne., and Lux Art Center in Lincoln, Ne.

Buy the good stuff the first time. You'll never regret it.

 

 

 

Not Today

Greetings Dear Reader –

I've often said that the goal of this blog is to post something by 9 pm on Sunday whether I have anything to say or not.

For the most part I am able to rub a couple of brain cells together and squeeze out a thought that I may or may not have known I had.

File today's post under the “not” category.

This is the weekend after Thanksgiving. We had a lovely holiday with gobs of siblings and spouses, with a few young’uns tossed in for fun.  The table was laid out with abundant food and shared with those we love most. For that I am truly grateful.

The hard part is not the preparation, cooking or cleaning up. The hardest part is in saying goodbye to family who, it seems, just arrived. How is it they spent days here and we hardly had time to visit?

And now, because it is the Sunday After Thanksgiving, the Christmas tree has been hauled in from its place in the garage, erected and lovingly graced with priceless, one-of-a-kind ornaments.

 

After laughing and eating and teasing and eating and debating and eating, eye-rolling and eating, long walks and one last lick of the spoon, I confess I am pooped.

As I sit here in my jams at noon, dining on the remains of our holiday feast, all I can think of to say is, thank you. I am deeply grateful for all of you. And maybe this:  while you're out and about this next month, keep this in mind ...

My exhibit, titled Common Ground, will be at Norfolk Arts Center until December 29^th. I’m pretty proud of it.

The Burkholder Project and Lux Art Center in Lincoln proudly display my work, as does Graham Gallery in Hastings and the Museum of NebraskaArt in Kearney.

As for me,  I've got just one more thing to do...

Art Zoos and other Tips

It's the middle of June and art festivals are in full swing.  This weekend Handsome Husband and I shared a spot in the Graham Gallery tent at Cottonwood Art Festival in Hastings, Ne.  It's a very nice event and we were happy to be there.  Big thanks to Angela Graham for hosting a wonderful group of artists to hang out with, and thanks to tent-mates Nicole Gustafsson, Max Miller, Steph & Chris with Pixybug Designs, and Mary Vaughan for being so much fun. 

Art festivals are a bit like being in a zoo.  People come and stare a bit before wandering off to look at something a bit more interesting. 

To make the whole affair a bit more civilized, Handsome Husband and I created a few guidelines for folks who plan on attending an art festival in the near future.

Forthwith our helpful hints:

Artist's don't bite.  Well, at least the ones I know don't.  It's okay to look at us and say hello.

Resist the temptation to ask the artist if they plan on being famous after they die. Most of us are working on it now.

It's really okay to visit with the artist.  Please understand, though, that the artist is there to sell their work, and while your Aunt Ruby and her purple-ribbon-winning county fair watercolor entry is truly fascinating, we must sometimes interrupt to attend to others. No offense intended to you or your Aunt Ruby.

The artist knows you can't draw a stick figure.  Neither can half the population of the free world, including the artist with whom you are sharing that bit of information.

Please do not allow your jaw to drop or your eyeballs to bug out when you inquire about prices.  Spitting out your lemonade is also unnecessary.  Simply take a slow, deep breath and back away from the booth without bumping into anything with a price tag on it.

Absolutely bring your children to art festivals.  Probably shouldn't let them in an artist's booth with their quadroople-scoop bubblegum pink icecream cone, however.

No, the artist is not starving.  Ha ha right back atcha.

Enjoy your phone conversations somewhere else.  Anywhere else.

Enjoy art.  Don't be intimidated.  It's okay to ask.  We love talking about what we do, and it won't cost you a dime.

My Two Cents Book Review

Greetings Dear Readers-

To celebrate a wonderful and enriching month in my art life (fabulous exhibit experience at The Burkholder Project, fabulous workshop experience at Lux Center for the Arts) I purchased a new art book for myself.
That's a big deal because 1) I'm pretty cheap and don't spend money on myself easily, and 2) I find reading about art fairly tiring. It's difficult to write about concepts and ideas, and art books tend either to get bogged down in gobbledygook or over-simple how-to's.

To blow a couple of hours I spent some time at a local bookstore browsing the art section.  Not known for their extensive collection of great art books, I was surprised and delighted to see a title leap out of the stacks at me, "Alla Prima, A Contemporary Guide to Traditional Direct Painting" by Al Gury. Alla prima is a method of painting taught to me by Dustin VanWechel at Graham Gallery a few years ago, and it suits me to a T. 

Warming Glen @2010 P Scarborough 11 x 14 pastel

To the uninitiated, alla prima is a method of painting in which little or no pre-planning is done, and it is not unusual to complete the painting in one sitting.  "Instinct and training are more important than exactitude and predetermined execution.  Suggestion, rather than detail, is used as a part of the expressive effect." says Gury in this beautifully written book.  I'm not much of a planner, in part because I get frustrated when my plans get waylaid.  I'm a go-with-the-flow kinda gal. I'm exactly the kind of person who revels in inexactness.

From Shadows @2010 P Scarborough

Gury starts with a clearly explained history of alla prima painting, which is refreshing in its simplicity.  He continues with concise descriptions of materials and a few demonstrations, all gorgeously illustrated with images of his work, as well as the artwork of those he admires.  I was introduced to a few artists I was not very familiar with, whose paintings are now firmly imprinted on my brain. In addition to Gury's gorgeous landscapes, Cecilia Beaux, Carolyn Pyfrom and Jon Redmond are now added to my faves list.

Consider this my recommendation - if you need one - as a gift to self.  It's beautiful to leaf through, and enlightening to read. 

How do you reward yourself?

Another Birthday List

As you remember, last week was my birthday, which means it's time for another Grateful List.

One item for each year. (Yeah, I know, it's kinda long.)

My Official Grateful List for 2009:

Number 1 - always - my family. All of you.

The rest, in no particular order:

coffee shared with good friends

fresh vegis from my garden - or anyone else's garden for that matter

Angela, Robin, Marcy & Nicole at Graham Gallery

good books

soft blankets on chilly nights

good paint brushes

friends. all of you.

solitude

time to relax

calm water

people who make me laugh

opportunities

Grandpa's recovery

excellent food shared with friends

good framers (Warren Cradduck, Lincoln, Ne., and everyone at Graham Gallery)

cool evenings

a garden full of black-eyed susans

comfortable shoes

good jeans

long car rides with good friends

challenges

fresh corn on the cob

honest politicians

smart blogs

my easyl plein air easel

a butterfly bush full of butterflies

vacations

campfires

modern medicine

mirrors

velcro

honesty

understanding that comes with prayer

smart people


eye glasses


starry nights


pre-packaged mulch


folks who build stuff


good haircuts



mondays


paychecks

offers of help


mechanical pencils


Burkholder Project


people who know how cars work


good teachers


mentors


digital cameras

hot showers

plain t-shirts


clean windows


people who read my blog

It's amazing how quickly I came up with this list. It's a great way to celebrate, and an excellent exercise in, well, remembering how great we have it. Try it for yourself.


Go ahead, I'll wait.

What are you grateful for this year?

Do You Want to be a Duck?

Y'know how Mom always admonished you to hang out with the right kind of people? Well, I know where you can find some folks who would make her grin from ear to ear.

I had the distinct pleasure of hanging out under the Graham Gallery tent at the Cottonwood Festival in Hastings, Ne, the last couple of days.

Angela Graham, gallery owner, has, over the years, managed to surround herself with a group of truly delightful, kind, funny and incredibly talented people. Bunches of of them gathered this weekend at the park, some to share their artwork with the public and some to hang out and help.

Daniel Keys shares a story for Fine Art Views about a duck for (this will all make sense in a moment) who thought he was a chicken. Something about the egg falling out of the nest and being added to a hen's nest by a well meaning farmer. The duck hatches and thinks it's a chicken because that's who he is surrounded by. Of course he never learns to fly, or swim, or quack very well, or any of the other ducky things he should be doing because he's not hangin' with other ducks.

The point is that in order to be the best person - or duck - that you can be, you should surround yourself with the right kind of du-er-people. Or artists.

Three years ago I managed to walk into a gallery run by a kind, patient, intelligent, honest woman. She has surrounded herself with kind, patient, charmingly goofy and intelligent people, who in turn have surrounded themselves with the same. And I got to hang out with them for the weekend. I feel smarter already.

After hanging with my peeps (sorry!) I start my week challenged to think more deeply about what I do and why I do it. I'm excited to try some new ideas on new surfaces thanks to the kindness of new friends who were encouraging and helpful.
I am ready, stronger and fearless to move forward artistically thanks to support from this new flock of mine.

I got me a flock Mom can brag to the neighbors about.

Who's in your flock?
Yellow Leaves on Blue Water 2009 Sold!

Prairie Plein Air

Gosh I had a great weekend.




I was lucky enough to spend two days with some terrific people at a plein air painting workshop hosted by Graham Gallery, held at Prairie Loft Center, and led by instructor extraordinaire Amy Maclennan.


















It was a terrific time. The weather cooperated perfectly, and the staff and crew at Prairie Loft took very good care of us, as did the always patient and attentive Angela Graham herself.



Painting en plein air is a special challenge. Not only does the artist deal with all the usual artist type stuff, but must also figure in the moving sun, a variety of bugs and other flying things, the lack of a close kitchen and bathroom, an overwhelm of intense and saturated color, heat, wind, and spectators.

The breeze kept the heat bearable, Amy shared her knowledge of color theory in a clear and concise way, and the Prairie Loft folks were helpful with facilities. As for the sun, well, it is the center of the universe. Workshop participants enjoyed sharing their expertise and I got some new friends out of the deal. Even the folks passing by were fun.


The weekend culminated in an auction of artwork donated by workshop participants as well as area artists, the proceeds of which will go to supporting the growth of Prairie Loft and its programming. My workshop piece was purchased for a very generous price, and I'm really pleased and honored.
Thanks to Angela, Amy and the Prairie Loft folks for an excellent event; thanks to Kathy for her purchase; thanks to Jerry for breakfast; and thanks to Todd for reminding me to have fun.
Gosh, it was a great weekend.
What made your weekend great?

And the Winner Is...

Well lah - dee - dah!

We started our Valentine's Day celebrating with a nice surprise at Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer's "Wings Over the Platte" opening reception. Well, two surprises actually.

The first was seeing a Merit Award certificate next to my pastel piece, "March Migration", @2009. There were 66 pieces of art in the exhibit, and it's rewarding to know you stand out just a bit.
(Special thanks to Grammy , who reminded me of the deadline and encouraged me to send in the application, and for framing the piece so beautifully.)

We celebrated by making a bee line to the chocolate bar. In an effort to pile high my too-small plate with chocoate goodies (hey, I got an award, y'know) I received my second surprise of the eveing when I dumped a cup of hot chocolate down the front of my lovely white sweater. It's hard to act suave and sophisticated with a soggy brown splotch spreading over one's ... er ... front while watching my hard won goodies roll under the table. Lucky for me I had my jacket hung over my arm and was able to sashay out the door with no one being the wiser. Well, until now. Keep that little secret under your hat, will ya?

How did you celebrate Valentine's Day?

It's Just Legs

Handsome Husband and I were at Graham Gallery in Hastings last night, enjoying a fascinating photography exhibit by Todd Brown. Todd's photos deal with movement and space, of those who have left their mark in rooms and hallways. They're thoughtful, beautifully presented, and maybe even a bit uncomfortable, if only because they are outside my experience. The images are still on my mind, which I'm certain would please Todd immensely.

I'm a landscape painter in a generally realistic manner. My job is to make a scene interesting and attractive. Seeing Todd's photos reminds me that it's okay for art to be uncomfortable. It's just fine when images don't fit neatly into pre-conceived packages, to be hung on walls and matched to the color of the divan. And I don't have to 'get it'. It's hard for me not to have the back story, the why behind the conception. I want to know why this texture, why this shape, why this subject. Sometimes it's 'just because', and that's enough.

My favorite photo in this exhibit is a front view of a young woman from the chest down, lanky legs sticking out from a shapeless shift. She's holding a branch at a 90 degree angle to her torso. Of course, my first thought was 'what does it mean??' And there was no answer. There was no paragraph beside the photo explaining Todd's deep, personal beliefs about peanut butter and it's relationship to the environment. There was no catalog reference to deeply held religious dogma and how it relates to the fact that Todd sometimes wears a kilt. It was just the photo. I don't know what it means, except that I know I love that photo. I love looking at it. I love thinking about it. I love that her lanky legs are sort of twiggy, like the branch she's holding. And I love that others are looking at it as well, and probably putting their own history to it. And that Todd is hanging out in the back, sipping a beer and enjoying the spectacle, thinking 'it's just a girl with a branch.'

This image is for my exhibit at the Minden Opera House, March 2 - April 15.

What does this image mean? In a nutshell, the fractured textures of the branches represent the frailty of ...well ... um, actually, I just like the way the yellow leaves float on the dark blue water.

What does your art mean to you?

Red Night 2009

First of all, thanks so much to those of you who boosted my spirits this past week. The making of art can be a bit lonely and having the support of those I admire is much appreciated.

(I wasn't exactly ready to leap off the nearest high building, but I was certainly whining enough that many closest to me probably wished I would.)

Using the advice that many of you shared, and with a push by Angela at Graham Gallery in Hastings, I switched gears and played with something new this week. Angela has asked me to participate in the American Red Cross Mid-Rivers Chapter Annual Fundraiser. Called Red Night 2009, it's an amazing evening of fine dining, silent auction and a production of Steel Magnolias by 7th Stage Productions.

Those of us donating work for the auction were asked to use - you guessed it - red as the common theme for our art pieces, which certainly fits the bill for trying something new. I've got red pastel sticks that are a year old and in pristine condition!

I'm letting you in on a sneak preview of the painting I'm donating, and I'll even show you how I did it for no extra charge. Heckuvadeal.

I have Fiestaware dinner ware, and I love their bright, rich colors, so what better item to paint than my red cup and saucer. I started on Art Spectrum sanded pastel paper in a soft umber color. Using vine charcoal I drew out the main shapes as you can plainly see. Since I knew that the strongest color in this piece would be red, I decided to kick it up a bit and make the shadow areas a cool dark green. To do this without creating a giant mud pile, I layed down the green and then washed it with rubbing alcohol. This melts the pastel into the paper, keeping the area dark but thin so light can still reflect through the pastel pigment. It also leaves the grit of the paper for further layers of pastel if I decide to add any, which I always do. (I can't believe I used blue tape. It's not very sticky, which is a real plus, but yuck! the color is so intrusive!)

The light in this piece is warm, so a light layer of dull warm yellow was layed down over the background area.

Next step red! I don't usually work with red, so it was a fun challenge to deal with warm reds and cool reds, dark reds and highlight reds. The dark areas on the cup and saucer are actually dark green, cross-hatched with dark cool red. The shadow is the same dark green, cross-hatched with a lighter cool green. 'S lovely.

Finished piece. This juicy 8 x 10 framed pastel will be available at silent auction during Red Night 2009. Bids start at $100. It can be seen at Graham Gallery from February 14 through the 21st.

Help me out with a name, please! I'm thinking "Reddy for Tea".

Ideas, anyone?

Great Expectations

A couple of days ago I took the trip to Graham Gallery for the purpose of delivering new artwork for the Christmas season. This time of year is a big deal at this gallery, as it probably is in most galleries. The walls are cleared of artwork that's been, well, hanging around, and new work is hung ceiling to floor. The aroma of cider and cinnamon will soon permeate the air and holiday music will be heard playing from the corners of the room.



Despite the fact that the year is aging, and time for all we were going to get done is running out, it's hard not to feel excited about the coming holidays. Even though the decorations being strung from the street lights in my town are nearly antique, they inspire a fresh look at the town square. The sky is that particular tone of blue that is startling in its intensity. The air is clean, the breeze chilly and brisk and the holidays are just around the corner.



It's a hopeful time, this end-of-the-year season.



There is the obvious, the hope of a successful economic up-tick for sellers of various stuff. (This includes yours truly here.) This season carries the entire year for some.



There is hope for those whose candidates won, to have their dreams met, or at least recognized. There is hope for those whose candidates lost their races, hope that fences will be mended and cold shoulders warmed.


There are great expectations for families to gather around a common table and share not only turkey and pie, but laughter and love, or at least a feeble joke and a momentary truce. I hope I have enough silverware to go around.


Some hope for snow, but not me. I'm past my sledding prime.



I hope people buy art. Not just mine, although that would be really, really great. I hope folks do not become paralyzed by the constant warnings of dire times from the Talking Heads. I hope people turn off the negativity and look up at the aging street decorations, and the families gathering and the clear blue sky and feel good about where this year has been. And where it is going.


And where we are.


By the way, if you're in Hastings Nebraska on the evening of November 20th, stop by Graham Gallery and see what's hanging on the walls. I'm sure there'll be a cup of steaming cider for you.
Hope to see you there.

Name Change

I've often wondered why Vincent Van Gogh signed only his first name. After this weekend, I think I know the reason.

Let me just say that I love my last name. Scarborough.

It sounds good. Rolls off the tongue in a nice way. You can even get a little snooty with it if you like: Scahhhborough.

It's problematic for some folks, however. They give it another couple of 'o's, an extra 'r', or even another 's' in the middle. As for me, I've never had a hard time with the spelling. The letters come together just like it sounds.

Until recently.

Let me just say that I have been a pastel artist for nearly 20 years. After a pastel piece is finished, I sign it using a school bus yellow, Ticonderoga #2 pencil. It lets me almost draw the name out, even allowing for a little flourish at the end. P Scarborough. I skip most of my first name. Twelve letters is enough to scrawl across the bottom of any painting.

A year and a half ago I took up with oils after a very long absence. The issue of my signature became, well, an issue.

Managing P Scarborough with a pencil is one thing. Getting it out of a size 0 paintbrush dipped in oil paint is another thing entirely. It requires a great deal of concentration to match up dipping/holding on to the brush properly/spelling the name/using readable penmanship skills.

It happened first a couple of months ago. Marcy, master framer at Graham Gallery, noticed first. There were only eleven letters in my signature. I had misspelled my own name.

Concentrating so completely on getting the brush to make all those curly lines, I neglected to actually read what I'd written.

Okay, hardy-har-har. So that painting is now worth a million because the artist didn't get her own name correct. But the thing is, that only works one time. And I did it again this weekend. Twice.

So, I appreciate Vincent's approach. However, I can see the same problems arising with my first name, Patricia. And using just my initial doesn't seem like a good idea. One lonely P on the bottom of a painting just seems to invite trouble. I'm thinking of changing my name to something more easily spelled with a brush. Maybe a symbol, like Prince uses. A swoosh would be excellent, but I think it's taken.

Would a thumbprint work?

White Bark, 5 x 7 oil, P. Scarborough (spell checked)