Survived the Show

my artwork at 2016 St. Paul Art CrawlSo, I survived the art crawl.  And I’m not crashing as expected, so that’s great.

Still, it’s another nail in the coffin, finance-wise.  Covered my show expenses, but that’s it.  Not a good show.  If I don’t get in the fall local outdoor show, this might be the last one.

I watched dozens of people stop across the room and point at my work, then come closer.  Or pull their companion over to look and comment on it.  Lots of smiles.  I gave out a pile of business cards and answered commission questions.  I think two of them may actually call to commission work.  Someone said they want to buy something “as soon as they’re employed again” — and boy, can I sympathize.  Another person said he “might come back for that painting … and maybe that one.”  (Of course, he didn’t.  Then again, the odd security guy I didn’t think would come back for two teeny watercolor seascapes did come back on the last day…)

My point is, I got great feedback from customers, passers-by, and other artists.  They like my work, think it’s very good, and unique enough.  Some responded to the nudes, a few to the dance-themed pieces, and many, many people to the animals.  My prices seem to be in-line with other painters.  (Or even a tad low, but I’m really trying to move some of these pieces!)  Unlike the fall crawl, this time I saw many people walking around with purchased art.  They just weren’t buying my art.

It’s such a tough nut to crack.  I’m trying very hard not to take it personally, or feel like a failure (“they say they like it, but why don’t they want it?!”).  If we had the luxury, I could do more market research, try a few more things… but we don’t.  Bad shows and a few sparse months have given me a beating.  And really, we need cash-in, and soon: hospital bills going to collections, a sprinkler line leak, a blown tire, less tax back than we thought we’d get, and oh, yeah, we’ve basically eaten through our safety net.  You’d think we were approaching thirty, not the mid-century mark. That plus our combined health issues means we just can’t mess around like this anymore.

So.  I’m trying to convince myself I was lucky to have an opportunity to try this experiment after I lost my long-term design job.  It’s true; not everybody gets that chance.   I’m trying to tell myself even if I can’t/won’t go back to the physical strain of a full-time high-stress (and discriminatory) corporate design job, I have other employable skills.  At least I hope so.  I hope I can convince someone else in an interview.

And in the meantime, I still have a few small commissions trickling in, so at least somebody wants my work, right?

Okay, picking myself up.  Again.

I ain’t strong yet, but I hope to fake it.

Art Spark

All they said was it was dead
all the magic in my head
so said the department head
I'd need that spark get ahead
without it they must go ahead
without my arts (or overhead)

And what they carefully left unsaid:
no time to waste on this pill-head,
this nutjob! (me) No thoroughbred,
a broke-down mare! I drew, I read,
but not enough for those who led
They didn't want a flower bed,
they wanted glitz in infrared
and glittered themes, Venitian red
(and even Santa in his sled)

Soon, I knew, with mounting dread
that they just saw the magic, fled
my interaction with that med
(that fogged my mind and blurred my head?)
was nothing to them, not one shred
I thought they cared; I was mislead
despite my doc's words 'bout the med
HR wouldn't hear me, blindness spread.
It was enough to go ahead
and terminate 
my job instead. 

I was so stunned; I barely pled
(too med-sick even to see red)
I cleared my desk and bowed my head
and shrank for home, 
and hid in bed.

But that doesn't end this story's thread
I healed, I calmed, I plowed ahead
and gradually that old death's head
shrank down in size. I left my bed.

Back to my easel I dared tread;
ideas flowed! My brain was fed
by all the colors, 'round me spread
like springtime in a tulip bed.

And now without that looming dread
demanding: Art! NOW! Go ahead!
I swim in musings so widespread
that, for today,
my soul is fed.


(C) 2014 by Rosetti C.
Translunary Things

NaPoWriMo day 30! A quick thank-you to everybody who is willing to keep reading my nonsense. I’m coming out of April a totally new person from my winter self. Writing, painting, drawing! Not long ago it took herculean effort to get up, shower, dress… I won’t say I won’t still have downs and the occasional crash; I’m realistic about that (depression’s a nasty beast). But I’m glad I can share with you this side of me, as well.

I wasn’t Outed, I was never In

It was never really a big secret. See, that was probably my first mistake.

I thought, old art-lady that I am, that I was past naïveté. (Bzzzzz! Sorry, Contestant. Wrong answer!) (more…)

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