High Art Meets Low

Finally finished up my last mini painting so now I can get back to work on those portraits.

“In the Eye of the Beholder (No. 5)”

This might be all over the place but if I don’t write about it I’ll lose my mind. Here we go:

I’ve been questioning if its worth showing art a lot lately. I’ll always be an artist and continue to paint and draw but I seriously question if I can keep showing. Part of me wants to just finish this series, do this solo show at the end of the year and walk away. In school they never really teach you how to get gallery representation. They briefly roll you through the motions but push staying in academia as the only way to create real “art.” It’s one of the reasons I never finished, I refused to be trapped in academia. I know I would have been a great professor and it would have opened doors to maybe actually make a living off my dreams. But I couldn’t take that route. My work comes from real places not concepts. Painting is a terribly personal experience for me and often emotionally devastating. I haven’t made it through a single piece from my new series without bawling my eyes out. That’s how much it means to me.

So it’s been hard lately to wear my DIY badge of honor and try to remember that I’m lucky that I’ve shown as much as I have. Try to remember that the four gallery representation rejection letters that I’ve gotten since March are just about business, about what they can sell. Keep pouring my heart into everything I do. Believe that all the sacrifice and sleepless nights will eventually pay off while still being thankful for the paintings I do sell in a year. Always be humble and hope that my work speaks for itself.

I still want representation. The experience, support, and knowledge galleries have that I don’t. The collector base and access to museums. Making art is what I know best and even though I’ve only been showing for a little over three years it’s been extensive and with amazing feedback. I’ve seen rooms full of people stare at my work then take pictures of not only the paintings but the title cards. Smiled as people say they admire how I stayed true to my dreams when it’s more like having a second job. Lost more friends and lovers than I care to admit. Watched as the economy crumbled and co-ops I loved collapsed without warning. Shrinking budgets and barely making a living wage. How increasingly hard it’s becoming to find outlets to show and sell my work. It feels like I’ll never make it, even though at this point I have too. Not for the money or the fame. So I can give something back to the world, so I can change it even just a little.

I’m just drained and tired of being strong. I want someone, anyone to just say that it’ll work out and that I actually belong.