"Morning at Sun Bay" (Vieques, PR)
"Winter Scene"
"Michigan Morning"A quick note to check in after my wonderful show at Les Sirenes in Frankfort: I received some great publicity in the local newspaper and enjoyed a very good turnout for the opening. So much goes on during the two-month summer season here, it means a lot when people choose to attend your event! I was very pleased to see a red dot on a painting when I walked through the gallery door. A pre-show sale is always welcome! Several other sales, including one of the large show piece, "Summer's Day," just before I returned from a trip to Atlanta, qualified the show for me as a successful effort.
While sales are one measure of success, they certainly aren't the only one. The first and, perhaps, most important one is my own satisfaction with the work. Given my (self-admitted) history as a co-dependent personality, that's saying a lot! But, seriously, I paint to receive the gift the painting comes to bring, much as I enjoy speaking to hear what comes out of my mouth.
Lest you imagine me a total narcissist (instead of a partial one), this is how I experience Something More -- God, the higher self -- or whatever you choose to call a power greater than the everyday, ordinary self. Some people pray and meditate, I paint and speak. When I "get" the sweet delight of what's been given through the artwork, I'm nourished from the inside out. Then, when someone else appreciates what I do, it's simply delicious icing on the cake. (And, when they make a purchase or otherwise claim the value in what I do, that's good too.)
There's no resting on laurels for me, however; it seems I'm always getting to make fresh starts. Just back from a two-week ordeal of moving house in the incredible heat of a Georgia summer, I was eager to see what I'd paint after "Fresh Light." Well -- surprise -- it turned out to be more fresh light! One of the attractions of where I now live is the Lake Michigan shore that's four blocks away. There's a spot where I can stand in the shade and see dunes and deciduous trees and water, three favorite landscape elements. People walk by and add their two cents. I love it!
Last Friday's result was "Michigan Morning." It has an almost photographic quality even though it's painted loosely and without much detail. I was pleased with it, and I hope through it you'll enjoy a bit of Michigan summer too. Let me know what you think!
Welcome Spring
Michigan -- A New Home
I arrived in Frankfort about a week and a half ago. I'd flown from Vieques to Atlanta, then Roo flew down and we drove back here together. We're living in an apartment on Main Street, across the street from the house we're renovating. It's great to be here. For one thing, it's cool; for another, there are no mosquitoes or roosters. Plenty of friendly folks, however, and miles of beautiful landscape
Where to paint first? Always a tough decision for me. But first I had to dig out of storage my equipment from last October when we left for the winter. Whew! I found a blue, a red and a yellow and a small tube of white. Enough to get started. Off to Treat Farm at Sleeping Bear Dunes. I'd heard the woods were full of trillium, I had to see them. Sure enough, the white flowers on either side of the trail from Tweddle Farm blanketed the wooded dunes. I headed on to the meadow beyond, though. I wanted to paint the farmhouse.
Sheltering in the shade of a small pine tree, I set up my easel and squeezed out my paint. Except the cap on the tube of yellow I'd brought along wouldn't budge. And it was very chilly. As my winter duds had been stolen in the burglary back in Georgia, I'd layered up as best I could, but it wasn't enough to protect me from a stiff breeze off Lake Michigan. Undaunted, I scraped as much yellow as I could from under a dried pile from last year. Tough going painting that brilliant sunlit forsythia in front of the house. Like many first drafts, this plein sketch was sent to the bottom of the pile.
On the way back to my car, I spied the friendly pair in the painting above. Next time I was free to paint, I made sure all the caps would unscrew. The yellow leapt from my brush onto that bush. "Welcome Spring" -- I'll count this as my first keeper of the season, the painting that welcomes me back to Michigan to my new home.
Autumn Little Mulberry LakeIt's no secret that people aren't buying a lot of paintings these days. I can tell I'm not alone by the volume of email in my inbox marketing "art marketing." One promo tells me that for just $2599 I can have my image on the cover of a new magazine that targets galleries. The more I throw my baited line in the "river of money," I'm told, the more chance I have to sell paintings. The fact that galleries are also hurting isn't mentioned.
I could chalk it up to lousy timing. My art career appeared to be taking off -- I sold an average of a painting a week for the first 6 months of 2008 -- but then the market tanked and the economy headed south. Earlier this year I had my first experience of haggling with the Very Wealthy -- imagine discounting a painting to Them! It seemed, however, the only way to make the sale. Bottomline, they loved the work and I wanted it to go to their home.
I haven't thought much about selling work for a few months. For one thing, in May of this year my mother died. The angst of not-selling can't in any way compare with the pain of such a loss. Yet, as the grief recedes, I can see more clearly the stacks of unclaimed paintings. (Remember the commercials that boomed "UNCLAIMED FREIGHT!" ? ) Plus, most days I add another to the inventory. What to do?
I've thought more than once about holding a fire sale. I've also thought about building a bonfire. Or taking the canvas off the stretchers and stashing the rolled paintings in a cupboard until the world recognizes their worth. None of these solutions particularly satisfies my desire not only to make art, but to see it go out into the world, to live with someone who appreciates it. Oh, and did I mention, giving the work away?
While today's numbers indicate a slow recovery from the recession, most people's reality is that money is still tight. As long as that perception rules, people probably will be tight with their money. And, I'm asking myself, does my own version of that show up in being rigid with my pricing?
I've heard artists more experienced than I say that one should never lower prices simply to move work. Yet, I've also noticed many painters posting their Daily Painting on eBay auctions starting at a buck. Sometimes the painting actually gets bid up to $100 or more, but more often it goes for much less if it goes at all. The fire sale actually appeals to me more, and seems to involve a lot less time on the computer.
My friend who owns a higher end gallery in Atlanta has lowered his prices -- he felt had to so he could stay open. He'd laid off workers and cut every other expense he could think of. As much as he didn't want to, he told his artists he was reducing prices. He also introduced a line of jewelry into his more or less exclusively fine art showroom. He was being a sensible businessman.
The Artist rankles at the notion of submitting his or her Art to the sensibilities of the Market. But something in re-thinking the price of a painting feels correct to me. I want to sell paintings, not inflate my ego. Yes, I loved it the first time someone paid me more than a $1000 for a painting. But in today's market, the same painting would not get that price from most people. I can choose to pay to put the image on the cover of a magazine, demonstrating what? Hubris, desperation ... ? Or maybe I can simply keep on making the art and sell it at a more affordable price.
I want to create paintings. I want people to have the paintings I make. If I sell them for less, perhaps I'll sell more, and more to the people who seem to like my simple and colorful landscapes. Anyway, I'm giving this a try. I hope my previous patrons won't get mad and feel they got a lousy deal by paying more a year or so ago. I hope, instead, they'll take advantage of the current situation and stock up at the less expensive price. And tell their less well-off friends: You can afford to buy these paintings!
On November 15 &16 I'm holding a time-limited reduced price Open House & Art Sale. It's going to benefit the Atlanta Community Food Bank. I'll give 10% of the proceeds of my sales to the organization along with the non-perishable food item I'm inviting people to bring. I'll be showing only small paintings (12" x 16" or smaller, unframed) and everything for sale will be $200 or less. (There will be larger paintings lurking around the corner for those who want to spend more.)
I'm not interested in shelling out the big bucks to market my work; I like doing things in a more direct fashion. Maybe eventually it will pay off. But, if not, I'll enjoy keeping company with the likes of Henry Thoreau, who I hear died with 700 of the 1000 copies of Walden's first edition still unsold.
For more info on how it all turns out, email me: eharold@aol.com.
Autumn Color
Tweddle FarmMy residency officially draws to a close today though we can stay in the house until Monday. The presentation at the Visitor Center drew a great crowd of 40 or more. It was fun to be speaking on the subject near and dear to my heart, but as it turns out, it was not unlike the talks at the old Unity-Midtown. They laughed; they cried. I presented the Tweddle Farm painting (image above) to the Park and another to Preserve Historic Sleeping Bear. Then about 20 people followed me over to the farm for the exhibit of my other work -- about 25 paintings in all. What can I say? It's been an amazing experience. I'm sure there'll be more to reflect on as the days unfold. As I was out this morning painting "Autumn Color" a woman I met on the dunes came by to make a purchase of the painting she fell in love with yesterday. It was a nice affirmation of my dune path. More later ....
Late Summer Port Oneida
Treat Farm
Burfiend Farm
On location: North Bar Overlook. 
Dune Plain
Tweddle Farm
Apple Tree
NavioOn the Dune Early Afternoon
20" x 20" oil/canvas
Until last year I'd never been to Michigan, but when I finally got there I fell in love. The friend who introduced me lives a hop, skip and jump from the Vasa Trail, a cross-country ski venue in the winter, a labyrinth of walking and biking paths in the summer. While I didn't paint there on my first visit, I did spy a meadow I promised myself I would paint one day. This August I spent many fine hours there. Doing one of my first pieces, a strip of light at the top of meadow intrigued me. Following the path I'd been painting I discovered this dune. I first did a 12" x 12" study beginning around 1:00 p.m. Usually not my favorite time for plein air work, I found a patch of shade that gave me a great vantage point. I loved the study and headed back with a large canvas a week later. around the same time. A somewhat autumnal day, wonderful clouds scudded across the sky. This dune "blowout" on the Vasa Trail whet my appetite for what was to come -- the Sleeping Bear Dunes -- left behind by the glaciers that covered Michigan and points north many thousands of years ago.
Evening on the Bitterrot
Dunescape Martha's Vineyard
Yearning
Woodland Garden
Perceiving the Deep
Sunny Vista, La Hueca
