Declined

I am going through a run of rejections at art shows - or, to put it more politically correct - "declineds".

One never knows what a juror may value. Even after reading their bio, and looking at their work, it is difficult to choose pieces that might actually get in. it is more than difficult - it is impossible!

But, for every show I have been rejected from, there are other shows where I am showing work, and, at a few of them, I have sold work. What is also interesting, is that I often sell work quickly that has been rejected from shows! Sweet!

One thing I recognize is that my adventures with acrylics are still in their infancy. I recognize that I have a lot of growing to do, and much to learn. So, I have decided it is time to take a workshop - to immerse myself in the creative process for several days, and just paint, paint, paint. While remote workshops are pricey, perhaps I need some time to learn a few new tricks, and to watch other artists in their creative processes. If new ideas could come in the form of an injection, I would be the first in line!

As an artist, I also need to learn to honor the process of hit or miss. Without struggling, there can be no progress. I have this one painting that I have painted over so many times, that it has an inherent texture.  

So, today I go to pick up my declined paintings. I already have ideas for the next show!

Artfully yours,

Cathy Harville 

I Guess I am Famous!

I had an unwanted experience today, when I went to my studio at the Mill. I knew it would eventually happen, but I was hoping not today.

One of my framed prints was missing from the hallway wall. I looked for a note, I checked my messages, but it wasn't long before I realized that it had been stolen. At least the thief left the hooks and price tag. They must of had picture hooks at home, and it was obvious they didn't need the price tag.

It is a common practice to display one's art in the hallway at the Mill, and one of the charming features about the Mill. Everywhere you wander, you are met with an eclectic mix of eye candy. Around one corner may be colorful abstract pieces, and down the hall, several portraits of big-eyed children melt your heart.

I did all the necessary stuff - called security, called the police, got a case number, made sure nothing else was missing, and told all my neighbors. It took a lot of time. And I don't like to waste time, because time is all we have. And I know whoever took it will never be found, and it will not turn up anywhere - if it happens to turn up in the trash heap, then I might be a bit upset.

I figured that I must be famous at last. Why would someone steal a print (the original has been sold), unless they thought it had enormous value? That thought, of course, made me muse a bit, but it was most likely a patron of a nearby bar that had way too many beers, and was amused by the long shadows in the print, entitled, "Stretched Thin".

Anyway, for all of you out there, I have included a picture of the missing print. If you see it on a wall, it would be fun to ask the person where they got it. (I have sold a few!) The good news is, I can make more! The bad news is, that it was in a really nice frame.

So, for the time being, I am going to enjoy my fame. But to be safe, I put a few of the more expensive paintings in my studio - I don't want to be too famous!

Peace,
Cathy

Being Humble and Eating Dirt

It has been very hot here lately, the kind of heat that makes one a little bit on the edgy side, and lowers your electrolyte levels to "dumbness". Of course, the A/C always goes out when it is at least 95F, and 95 per cent humidity. And, it happens during a big event - with me, it is moving on to my new studio.

Yesterday, my Mom and I tackled the task of putting two chairs together, "Relaxing" chairs, they are ironically called. After two hours of struggling with the first chair, we agreed to put the unfinished wreckage into a corner, and pretend it never happened.

Then, Julian showed up - a bright eyed, gregarious young fellow, who just turned the ripe old age of eleven. He asked eagerly if we were moving in, and I blurted out", yeah, would you like to help?" (It just came out.) Julian said "Sure, I will ask my mom", and before I knew it, he was eagerly looking to us to give him something to do.

I felt bad about asking him to put the chairs together, so I made a deal with him, that if he was successful, I would pay him, and if he wasn't successful, but tried really hard, I would still pay him a modest sum. Wow, the kid was really excited. So I gave him our abandoned effort, and the unopened box with the second chair, some tools, and let him have at it.

Julian put both chairs together in less than an hour. The whole time, he cheerfully made comments, offered ideas, asked questions, and gave advice. Not once did he get frustrated, question his own abilities, or even get close to giving up.

When he finished the chairs, we sat in them, and relaxed. Julian helped me take out trash, and asked if he could do anything else, and we wouldn't have to pay him, because it was so much fun. Wow. A fresh outlook, positivity, smiles, and agreeableness go a long way. At some point, we were discussing getting sick, and Julian said he never got sick. I asked him if he ate a lot of dirt when he was "little". He said, "Yes, and I still do. Boosts the immune system."

Julian may not realize it, but today I feel more capable, competent, and I will take things, and myself, a lot less seriously. I may even eat some dirt, just for good measure. Thank you, Julian!

Cathy

Messy Painting

Last night, I had the privilege of giving a talk to seven eager Girl Scouts about being a professional artist. The young ladies are working towards a visual arts merit badge.

It has been a long time since my daughter was that age, and I had obviously forgotten how interactive and uninhibited children are. So, when I launched into my brief speech about how I became a "professional" artist, their eyes glazed over with that distinct "boring" look. So I started to ask questions, which led to more questions, and one youngster asked if I would paint for them.

So, I grabbed a blank canvas, laid out some yellows and blues, and started mixing. As I put swatches of the different greens on the canvas, a big-eyed girl asked if they could paint, too. "Sure", I said without thinking that acrylics don't come out of scout uniforms. I nervously told the moms that you gotta crack some eggs to make an omelet, and they relaxed. I gave each scout a small panel, a bit of direction, and just let it happen.

The night was transformed into a self-esteem building workshop - all from some messy globs of paint. I talked about the joy of the process of painting, how there are no bad paintings, just "starts", and that we all have creativity built into us as human beings. Each of us has special gifts, just waiting to be discovered.

We laid all the canvases on a big piece of Kraft paper. I was floored. The colors and imagination were beautiful. As the masterpieces dried, the girls followed me like baby ducks into the utility room, so we could clean the brushes (and ourselves). The apprentices watched me clean the brushes like I was doing magic tricks. It reminded me how much like sponges are children are.

What started as an opportunity for me to give back to the community, ended up being more food for my soul than I could have ever imagined. As I tidied up the studio after they left, I felt like a child myself, eager to make a new "start", and engage in some messy, satisfying painting.