Bon Voyage

In a conversation recently with a group of artists who were part of Alyson Stanfield's Artist Breakthrough Program, one of the members said something that wraps up my last two blog rants in a lovely way. Many thanks to Lyn Bishop for sharing her gentle and positive attitude.

Lyn prepares her beautiful artwork in a heartfelt manner for a bon voyage to it's new owner. She affirms the creative spirit of her efforts, and honors each piece with a hopeful blessing. Rather than cutting ties to her work because the process of discovery is over and the price tag is hung, she literally wishes her pieces the very best and encourages them to find new homes. I imagine it's the same way mothers send their children off into the world. Grow them up, give them everything you've got to give them, and then gently give your children to their futures.

For an artist the creative process is paramount. In order to continue that process, commerce is necessary. Let's do it in a manner that honors every step of the way.

So, to the Art Collector in a previous post who will likely squeeze my painting between her magazine rack and end table, behind the lamp and wing chair, it's a beautiful place for that painting. Thank you for your purchase. Whenever you grab a magazine, you'll see that lovely painting and think good thoughts.

That's all anyone can ask.

The Flip Side

Thanks for the comments on the last post. Interesting perspectives all.

Here's the flip side of that coin:

How would Mr. or Mrs. John Q. Collector feel if they knew we artist's didn't always agonize over each and every brushstroke? Don't we artists make a big deal about our souls and our creative spirits and who ever else lives inside our studios with us? We moan about the lack of appreciation of our skills, the lack of understanding of our gentle spirits. We wax poetic about inspiration and artistic muses.

But admit it. Every now and then we get lucky. Every now and then while we're making a grocery list in the back of our minds and deciding on new wallpaper for the bathroom, a painting magically appears on the easel. It may not be cutting edge, but it's pretty good looking. Sign it and go start dinner.

In my last post I was in high dudgeon over a collector not respecting the art of collecting. Stockpiling was more like it I grumbled. But am I being respectful of the public when I sign and frame - and ask big money for - a painting that took less time to paint than the amount of time it took to wash out my brushes?

The blush is off the rose. Making a living as an artist involves a reality check. To be sure, being an artist is about the coolest thing on the planet. We get to dream and wonder and walk around with paint in our hair. But we also have to pay our bills, just like every other small business owner.

Painting or drawing or sculpting belongs within the realm of creativity. Selling belongs in the realm of commerce. There's no room for sissies in either place.

Collection Agency

I was visiting recently with an art collector. Those words should probably be entered Art Collector, since she made it quite clear to me and anyone else within earshot that she owned enough art to fill every room in her house. Plus the garage, and I am not kidding. She was preparing to anoint me the next artist in her "collection". So why am I not thrilled?



Years ago she explained to me that she had so much artwork some of it ended up in her garage. She was wealthy beyond reason, and decided to become an art collector. Guess that beat collecting salt and pepper shakers. To help her regain her home she hired a "stager", a person who sort of re-decorates your house with stuff you already own. Along with rearranging some furniture, Stager Person pulled a ton of artwork off the walls and stored it away. The house is magazine ready, but stacks of collected art lay under beds, in the laundry room and yes, out in the garage. What got left matched the furniture.



So here's how she announces her intention: " I'm going to buy a small piece, it'll be easier to find a place to squeeze it in". Squeeze it in? Where is she going to put it? Behind the cereal boxes and left of the condiments in the kitchen cupboard? Between the fridge and the wall? Or out in the shed just behind the weed whacker? I mean, I'm honored that she wants the painting, and the money will be nice. But what of her feelings toward the painting. Does she love it as much as I do or is she a serial collector who has no feelings for what she collects, and just wants more. Maybe for her, buying art beats collecting china dolls with big creepy eyes.

I don't want to let her have this painting. She doesn't really love it, she just wants it because she can. The dilemna is: am I painting to sell, or painting to show? Do I give every potential buyer a personality test so that I know they're worthy of owning a painting of mine? How does any artist know how their artwork will be treated once it leaves their possession?



Should it matter?