VARIATIONS

A few years ago, while tinkering in Photoshop with the image of a night-lit convenience store, I hit on a combination of adjustments and filters that yielded an exciting geometric composition I thought would make a dynamite painting. So I projected the image onto canvas and began the painstaking process of transferring the design. Then I painted it, and thus began my fascination with geometric abstraction and rich, saturated color. I sought to marry such color and geometric forms, and that’s what my ‘Variations’ series is all about.

Did it take 10,000 hours of painting for me to become good at it? It probably took that long for me to identify my artistic voice /style. And, contrary to a lot of artistic instruction, my journey did not include copying or imitating another artist. Sure, I painted big flowers for awhile and tried to emulate O’Keeffe’s shading technique, but I realized quickly I was not interested in big flowers, no matter how beautifully they were rendered. And as much as I love the geometric abstraction I have made my own, I couldn’t do only that day in and day out.

     A lot of the research I did when I felt I was ready to approach galleries revealed the necessity for stylistic continuity in the work, i.e., a viewer should be able to identify it immediately as one of yours. I struggled mightily with that. I love venturing into portraiture and minimalism and expressionism. I even want to paint a fairly realistic picture of a plum not and then. I can see that such cohesion and predictability in an artist’s work makes a gallerist’s job easier. But I believe a good gallerist, one who loves art, can sell anything. I’ve seen it happen too many times. By changing up my style on occasion, I’m not attempting to produce a range of things that will appeal to a range of buyers. I’m merely following my muse(s).
     Now, would I redo one of my paintings with a different palette to match someone’s sofa? Alas, I have done it. If the piece is complicated, I’m not going to do it again. If it’s a wet-into-wet landscape or similar, I may repeat the process. How may times did Monet paint haystacks? (I’m not comparing my skills to his, believe me.)

      Once I’m done with the paintings for my June 2023 solo show, I want to explore loosening up my portraiture and making it more unexpected. There’s some really beautiful work in that area today. I hate to admit this is influencing me, but patrons love the “people” stuff. I’ve never thought I wanted a portrait of someone I didn’t know hanging in my home, but that was before I painted ‘Red Turban’. She’s a gem of a painting and hangs proudly in my great room. She was at one of my galleries, but I decided I didn’t want to part with her and brought her home. The piece wasn’t getting any attention, probably because it’s small and was swimming among giant abstracts. That’s okay. She brings me a lot of pleasure. 
     What about galleries? With the caveats that the bloom is pretty much off the rose with respect to this kind of representation for me, and that I have lucked into a relationship with a gallerist I will never allow to lapse (he’s that good!), I’ll attempt to discuss a few of the pros and cons of galleries and how to approach them.

      First, an observation . . . I don’t know why I thought ageism, a HUGE pet peeve, would not be a factor in gallery representation. It most definitely is, so let your eyes be open going in. In some cases, the marketability of your work is not as important as the marketability of you. But I’m not bitter, as a friend used to say. 

     Moving on. The beauty of galleries is that you don’t have to sweat the sales, if indeed sales is one of the reasons you’re an artist. You’ll have to decide for yourself whether 50% commissions or monthly fees and lower commissions are right for you. I’ve never been a part of a co-op gallery, but I understand those come with some unique challenges. The downside of the sales part is a classic Catch-22; if your work is selling well, the gallery is promoting you. If it is not selling, most of your stuff is probably in storage. And if the gallery is not within easy driving distance, checking in regularly is dependent on how responsive the staff is to your texts and emails. Response time is usually relative to how well your work is selling. And getting a solo show? I’m sure you know what I’m going to say. I’ve had good relationships with my galleries and have always trusted them. And they’ve made some good sales for me. I’m wanting more control over how my work is marketed though, with the exception of the one most excellent gallery I mentioned earlier.

     I’m not going to bore you with a discussion of making sure your work is a good fit before approaching a gallery. That’s just common sense. Whatever you do, follow the gallery’s submission guidelines to the letter. And always be respectful of people’s time and a “no thank you,” if you hear anything at all. Don’t stop by with portfolio in hand unless you’ve been invited to do so. 
     For years, I felt hamstrung and intimidated by the fact that I didn’t have an art degree. If someone likes my work, are they even concerned with my resume? I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing that the answer is “no” in the majority of cases. At this point in my career, no one is buying my work as an investment. They’re buying it because it brings them pleasure. (I would hope that was always the primary reason someone buys a piece of art, but the world doesn’t work that way.)

     I took private group lessons to learn how to paint. I always felt that if someone just showed me how to do it, paint with oils that is, I could take that knowledge and run with it. And that’s basically what happened. When the opportunity presented itself, I took some drawing, painting and photography classes at the university level. Probably the most helpful instruction I got was in art history. The more I learned, the more I wanted to visit museums and buy as many art books as I could afford.
     Even if described as “self-taught,” it’s likely an artist has observed and read quite a lot. And experimented, which is part of all art education. The experimentation aspect is what attracted me most about art school, especially an MFA in painting. The prospect of painting as coursework made me weak in the knees.

     Some time after I abandoned the notion of another degree, I read a book called Old in Art School: a Memoir of Starting Over by Nell Irvin Painter. She was a retired academic who enrolled in art school at the age of 64. I enjoyed the book very much, but it confirmed my decision to give up instruction and just paint.
     Becoming acquainted with other artists and talking art is helpful and satisfying. That kind of support is invaluable. And goodness, any sort of technique you’d like to learn can be researched on the internet. I’m certainly not saying that’s a substitute for formal instruction. But there’s a world of inspiration at your very fingertips.