This is My Blog

This is MY blog.

I can share whatever I want to. I can say whatever I want. I can withhold any information I want to. I can post whatever, and take down whatever, on a whim, or whatever. I am the master of my own universe.

Anyone can read my blog. They can skim it. They can subscribe, unsubscribe, or sit there with their browser window open to it at all times and wait there until I post something new – as if I actually have something interesting to say.

People can tell me to my face that they read this thing. They have the right to not mention it too, or even lie, or not even know it exists.

They can read it and thoroughly dislike me, the way I write, my sense of humor, and think whatever they want about me. It’s totally their prerogative to judge me however they please. It’s my right to prefer they didn’t. I am not one of these people that say I don’t care what people think of me. I’m either not old enough to feel that way yet, or just too neurotic and self-centered to ever feel that way. I’m not sure which.

I was realizing today that the more you put yourself out there, the more you run the risk of being hated.

There was a discussion among artists about who the biggest artist celebrity was. Was it Warhol? Picasso? DaVinci, Dali, Michelangelo…? It’s so amazing to me how hated Picasso and Warhol are, which tells me that they are probably the front runners. And I guess this happens with actors too. The more people that know you, the more likely you’re going to get haters along with your fans. I know I’m not a fan of any actors. Not many anyway. Not that I’m a hater. But this is the risk you run putting yourself out there.

I’m a hater of celebrity though. I suppose that’s more about media. How is Britney Spears coming out of a Starbucks with 10 extra pounds on her NEWS?

Yet, I seek out media for myself. I wouldn’t care if it was good or bad. Sure, I prefer it to be good, but you know what they say…

Why do I want this? Well, I want to promote my art, dummy. Why else? Okay, but who is the dummy, dummy?

For years – and I mean many of them, I use to think promo out = income in. Quantity equals quality, so to speak. It took me so long to learn how wrong I was and how it was the other way around.

It doesn’t matter how many eyes see your work, or how many names you have on your mailing list. That doesn’t mean jack shit if all those people are not the right people, and by the right people, I mean collectors, curators, and people that are genuinely interested in your work one way or another. Even if your list is composed of rich celebrities. So what?  What good does that do you if they aren’t into YOUR art or what you’re up to?

Your people do not have to be “buyers.” They need to be supporters. A supporter can come in any fashion. Money is not all there is because moral support is actually more valuable  than a sale. A sale only lasts as long as you have the money in your bank account. Remember that. Your painting is also gone. So maybe it’s one less piece to store, but you can’t sell it again. (You still own the copyright however – and that’s something.) My point being, the life of a sale is finite – very much so. A real supporter means more and grows with you while you grow.

Not only that, YOU grow while THEY grow too. They will promote you to their people. Your true supporters grow tentacles like sea anemones as they go through life. You never know what people they meet and what jobs they will swing in and out of over a decade. Trust me, I once had a guy that could hardly pay me for a $100 watercolor and two years later he got a job at a big internet company and ordered 10 large paintings for their offices, plus a personal commission.

Never count anyone out.

In another case(s), I have giant bouts of depression and often think I am just spinning my wheels for no reason – not that I can do anything else. Art is it. But I will tell you. If I didn’t have some of the key supporters that I have had, especially the ones that have been with me since the very beginning – who have never purchased a thing mind you – I would never have kept going on believing in myself.

Sometimes when other people believe in you when you don’t, you think, why? What does that other person see? I mean, you can’t really believe it, but you respect that person and think, they must see something,  and that floats you through those times. It’s kind of like team work. You believe in you when no one will, then they will – back and forth – like both of you keeping a balloon from touching the floor.

So, stop counting your pieces of mail, or your haters, or how many people passed by your last painting. and don’t discount your mom. You never know what she’ll cook up for you. I didn’t have a mom like that, but my supporters sure made up for her. And I bet you have a support system either within your friends or family, or both, and they count.

Don’t get discouraged any time someone unsubscribes from your mailing list. That’s one less person that isn’t interested. Your list has been streamlined! Now you can target your promotions better. That’s the way to look at it.

Now, how did I get here from how I started this entry? I have no idea.

All I know is that I eventually wanted to get to the part where I was going to show you my inspiration wall in my office.

inspiration

There’s too much to go over each thing with you, but up top is my favorite photograph of John, Yoko and Sean in a rowboat. It’s an original photograph!

I’m working in here today because I set up my “watercolor station” to work on the Special 16 Dans prints. I just got them in the mail and I didn’t want to waste any time painting them, since 12 of them are slated as Kickstarter rewards. That leaves only four left that I can sell, but I have no idea for how much. Maybe $60 a piece? Still not sure.

Here is basically what they are going to look like (this is a Photoshop mock-up):

16dansnewtest

They are 8 x 8 inches on #140 watercolor paper.

Okay, gotta go. Meg Madison is also coming to visit today, so see you on the flip-flop!

 

Jealous of You

Do I get jealous of you? Isn’t jealousy a natural feeling? Animals get jealous. I see my dog get that way all the time.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with jealousy. I think it’s a good thing.

I’m talking about as an artist.

As a drummer, this feeling inspired me. I loved it when someone was better than me. I really did. It made me happy. Few things make me happy.

But there’s a big difference between envy and schadenfreude, or hating  someone for their successes. I guess it’s all how you channel it.

In music it was a lot easier. It inspired me when someone was a better drummer. Maybe it was a little harder when it was a closer competition though, I will admit that. Like if another drummer was auditioning for the same gig – of course I didn’t want him to get it over me. I suppose I hoping for some misfortune to rain down upon him. Ha! (Nothing too serious, of course.)

Okay, I’m guilty.

I guess what got me thinking about this is because I normally don’t mind the fact that I generally like other people’s art more than my own. I mean, I do. If I didn’t, I’d hang my own art all over my house. I like my own art, don’t get me wrong, but I’m too fickle about it. There are days I really hate it with a passion.

I don’t get that way with other people’s work. If I love it, I usually keep loving it more with time.

What am I getting at exactly?

Well, my friend, Brian Novatny, is having his first solo show in many years. He is showing all new paintings and drawings and his style has evolved drastically over all this time, and now, I am absolutely in love with the work I have seen of his so far, especially this painting:

BRIAN NOVATNY, SAILOR'S DIARY
BRIAN NOVATNY, SAILOR’S DIARY

He sent it to me in the invite for his upcoming show, which opens next Thursday at 6:PM at Mulherin + Pollard in NYC.

I used to show with Brian at George Billis Gallery. In fact, we were supposed to have a 2-person show in 2010, but some stuff happened that I can’t talk about. The “stuff” made us both mad and that made us bond over some drinks in Chelsea, then again the next night on the Lower East Side, then again the next night somewhere else, I’m not sure. It got to be a blur after that, but we’re buddies now.

Anyway, I either want this painting, wish I had painted this painting myself, or just feel like shit about myself today. Maybe that’s all that jealousy is really. Feeling like shit about yourself that day. It has to be.

But I’m not sure.

Does my dog feel like shit about herself?

Transition

I often have dreams about places I’ve lived, studios I’ve had. They are mixed up in my head and sort of blended together, and I’m usually moving in the dream. Sometimes I am in the middle of the two places, a lot of times Michael and I are splitting up. I suppose we dream about what we fear the most. Sometimes we are just separated because someone has to stay in one of the houses while in transition. Somebody has to stay and paint the new place, spackle the holes in the old place — something like that.

Anyway, all this cleaning out the studio, and thinking about how to fit everything in some future home had me thinking I guess – had me dreaming, and worrying – about transitions.

I am getting ready for my big trip and it is going to be all about transition.  It’s actually starting to scare me a little. Sometimes when I’m scared of something, I look it up in the dictionary. Defining it usually takes the “heavy” significance out of it for me. It gives me a sense of control or something, but this time it more or less scared the shit out of me more!

tran·si·tion

[tran-zishuh n, –sish-]
noun
1. movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another;change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood.

Yup! That about sums it up! That’s what the plan is. That’s exactly what I was setting out to do.

So why would I get cold feet?

Okay, it’s not cold feet. Believe me, I am excited and I am so looking forward to it. I’m just a little scared. Mostly… curious.

I think I love that the word “passage” is in the definition. Yeah. I like it. Passage… Like I will come out of this a new artist, a new person. Hopefully, an improved one. But we’ll see. You know, that’s all about confidence? It really is. Because there’s no such thing as being a “good” artist. Not really.

In other news, I have a few pictures of how Monographie is looking. See?

They are not the greatest photos on Earth, but it’s a little peek for you. At least I’m giving you something! Jeez, stop complaining.

Here’s the front:

front

And the back. (Clever, eh?)

back

spine

spineflat2

standing
I think it’s looking pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty lovely. Don’t you think? Don’t you want one?

The inside is even better! (Horn tootin’!)

Making Space — The Impossible Task!

I don’t know how much different this blog post is about to be from the post I just made on my Exodus Project Blog, but here goes.

I just finished cleaning and straightening up my studio, Rubber Soul. I have a studio visit tomorrow with a curator, plus it had been an utter mess for months.

rs2

I was even able to clean out my flat files and organize them. I can’t believe I got to those! People think I’m so organized already. Now I am! I’m pretty proud of myself, I must say. I was just throwing stuff in there willy-nilly, and thought I had a “system,” but it wasn’t quite working out. I think I needed to have an inoperative system for about six years before I knew how  to make an operative one, if that makes sense. Ha ha ha!

51222-2606-3ww-l

Now it’s so fucking clean and organized and exactly right this time, I want to shout it to the heavens! (I get to excited about this stuff!) And hey, maybe this will work for other artists for all I know. Once I split things up this way, I was like, oh yeah, duh!  So here are my drawers from top to bottom, and of course, many only pertain to me, specifically:

Surfaces – All the nice, clean paper I have yet to make art on. I even divided those up into big flat bags and marked them (#300 cold press Fabriano, etc.).
Wraps – Anything that will wrap a single sheet of paper/print for a buyer or to ship. Paper or clear envelopes, “stiffiners,” large envelopes, acid-free paper wrap, cardboard, etc.
Originals – Large original work on paper that’s too large to fit in any of my portfolio books.
Journal Project – All the original drawings from my Journal Project.
Cut Patterns – A bunch of patterns that I’ve already cut, plus all of the master patterns for future cuts. These are for both paintings, and the Journal Project.

Large Prints – Prints over 20 inches in either direction.
Artists’ Books – These are mostly the ones I pull out for display. I keep the “fresh” ones in boxes somewhere else.
Small Prints – I have a lot of these.
Portfolios – I keep all my portfolio books of works on paper in here, large and small.
OPP – Other people’s works on paper: originals, prints, and photographs.

Yeah, I love to organize. Can’t cha tell? If you can’t tell from the above, those are two different cabinets. I have a really big one, which is the top one, and a medium one, which is the bottom one. Come to think about it, I often wonder if my 2nd one is the smallest version of those Maylines. Not that it’s a Mayline, it’s some other brand. I’ll have to measure it sometime and figure it out.

But it doesn’t even flippin matter since it works for me. They both work for me and I really don’t know what I’d do without them. However, I don’t think I could ever afford – and I’m not even talking money – another one. I don’t have the real estate. I don’t even have the real estate for everything I have now!

new2

drums1

I lose sleep at night thinking about how much art shit I have! How much art furniture and painting storage I have. It makes me nuts!!! It really does. If I ever had to move and I couldn’t have a two car garage with a little back extension (yeah – like where am I going to find that???), then I don’t know what I would do!

Then again, I can also consider it this way: Some artists need a studio space, and a 500 square foot studio is not very big at all. I would just have to figure out how to pay for it …again!

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