August Endings

Floating Leaves SOLD

August always feels like an ending to me.  Perhaps it has been ingrained from my school years where summer activities come to an end and a new season begins again.  I start to wish for cooler days and the first blush of color in the aspens--and a new color palette and new subjects to paint.

In a few weeks, the garden will be harvested for the last time before the first frost.  There is a finality to storing potatoes and putting that little square of land to bed.  The leaves will start to fly soon. 

Autumn is restful after a busy summer.  It gives me time to build up my inventory before ski season begins and my galleries are bustling again.  I can't imagine painting a place without the rhythms of the four seasons.  There is renewal and a structure to the year that keeps me in its grips in anticipation of the next season and the next canvas to be filled.

Crested Butte Plein Air



In the Thick of It oil 16 x 12

I am just settling back in the studio after a week in Crested Butte for their plein air event. I had a great time painting--we did have some challenging weather to work around.  I spent the first night huddled in my tent listening to the rain and woke to a substantial amount of fog.  Hard to paint when you can't see anything other than what is at your feet!!!

I finally took shelter in a stand of aspen trees and waited out the rain.

Aspen Enclosure SOLD





When the weather cleared, I was in full production mode and I managed to get some good painting time in.  What I really love about these events is being around other painters and the chance to look at how everyone interprets the landscape in their own way.  There was some really beautiful work and I have returned a bit tired, but definitely inspired. A select amount of paintings from the event are still for sale at the Oh-Be-Joyful Gallery through this week.




Above the Valley SOLD



Turning Towards the Sun oil 14 x 11

 

Bread and Butter

Before the Run-off oil 14 x 18

I am in the midst of painting a body of work for a solo exhibition at the end of July. In preparation I have included many pieces that I consider my "bread and butter" works--those paintings that I know are sought by my collectors.  They follow a previous series or have a wider appeal. For me, these include paintings of aspens or water elements and reflect the local landscape. Sometimes I resist these images, but they do create a brand for me and they spur other sales.

I try to also include work that is a little more experimental.  I think it is important to explore new subject matter or new approaches that may be a little riskier.  It keeps the work fresh for me and sometimes even leads to a new thread that will prove to be my bread and butter. I don't go too far off route with these pieces.  I'm careful not to introduce a new style. They still feel like my other works, but they often speak about my goals as a painter and may be less "saleable", but they keep me motivated.

The I in Artist

Pathway oil 11 x 14

I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with how much the word "I" appears in my blog posts. But it did get me thinking.  Must an artist be comfortable with talking about themselves?  Can we successfully market our work and not have the conversation center around what we do and how we think?

Madeleine L'Engle wrote (to paraphrase) that all artists are "a paradoxical combination of arrogance and humility". There has to be some degree of "Hey, look at me" to decide to put your work out there.

I do know a couple of artists who make good work and are so introverted that it is virtually impossible to talk to them.  The work is good enough that it sells without the egocentric "I". I also know a few whose work perhaps does not sell as well as it could because they are uncomfortable talking about themselves in front of a crowd. And I know a few who sell well and aren't that good at the painting part, but very good at talking about their work. It is an interesting debate.

Inviting People In

Reflection in Sienna and Gold oil 12 x 12

Something jumped out at me as I was reading another artist's blog post today.  They were talking about sharing your secrets--about letting people in as a way to connect with your audience (they used Bob Ross as an example). It resonated with me.  The idea was this: a piece is more personal to a collector if they know more about the whys and wheres and hows of your work. Be an open book. A collector is going to remember you if you were generous with your time and you told them a story or shared your technique. Or you offered them something extra like a personalized inscription on the back of their painting. And you did it with a smile. This may seem elementary, but you would be surprised at how many artists there are who would rather remain mysterious.

Yesterday, I was talking with someone who had purchased a painting by Stephen Quiller.  They visited his studio and he offered that they stay and fish in the river on his property.  Then he offered to deliver their painting to them since they didn't have room in the car with the dog.  They subsequently bought three more paintings and raved about how nice he was even though he had just met them.  Those paintings are going to mean more to them than the painting bought without the personal experience and the story and the generosity of an artist inviting someone in.

Why Selling Matters



Crossing Seasons oil 12 x 12

 For those of us who are pursuing art as a career, selling matters. Oh, I know there is the romantic notion that we should create no matter whether our product sells, but, in the end, it matters.  Selling what I have made means that my work speaks to someone. It means that I am not idly spending time in the studio. It means what I am doing goes beyond myself and makes a difference in someone else's life   It propels me to make more work. It means I can buy more materials and put food on the table and pay the mortgage.  Essentially, it means that I can do what makes me happy and that makes me very lucky indeed. 

Van Gogh is an astonishing example of someone who painted without making sales (of course, we all know what happened to him)!  He was so driven that he largely ignored the real world and his brother had the task of supporting him. Perhaps I am too practical to understand how Van Gogh managed to have any momentum, though I imagine it helps to have someone else to pay the bills. I sometimes wonder what would have happened to him had he made money from his paintings.


Van Gogh Two Cypresses

 There is a natural ebb and flow to sales.  Here in the mountains, sales follow the seasons which gives me time to compile my best work before busy summer and winter traffic.  Lately, the economy (gasp!) has kept sales in check and made me very aware that they do matter.  It is important to me to sell my work. It provides validation. It means my vision and my convictions matter.