Last Wednesday, I received a Facebook message from Travis Gray, the Art Director for the Metro Pulse, asking me if I'd like to make an illustration for the cover of their next issue. The story would be about Locavores.

While my inner child was jumping up and down with giddiness, I emailed him back saying I was interested, and that I could try to find the time to do it.

A tiny part of me was trying to play it cool, but I was mostly worried about taking time away from preparing for my upcoming show. At the same time, to have an illustration on the cover of the Metro Pulse... how sweet would that be?

A few messages later, he hooked me when he told me I would be paid.

***

THE WORK

Travis gave me an initial idea to illustrate a couple gardening (see below - don't judge him for this, he made it in 2 seconds)



I made a sketch from his idea Wednesday night. (see below- don't judge me. I sketch like a monkey.)






















He liked it, but Thursday morning, I woke up with another idea. I emailed Travis the new idea, one I thought would be more in line with the work I had been making and that would convey the idea even better. He liked it, and I thank him for trusting me.


As the initial pencil sketch progressed, I sent him photos of it. He made suggestions and I made changes. Once I got the sketch down, I painted Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Monday morning, I made some final changes and emailed the image. I was so nervous, my stomach hurt.

Both Travis and the writer of the story, Cari Wade Gervin, emailed me to tell me it was a hit. It was a hit!

Two days later, I conveniently ran an errand downtown when I thought the paper might be hitting stands...

...there it was. My painting on the cover of a newspaper, framed out with text. I could hold it in my hands, and so could many, many others. Sooo fun.


***

I'd like to tell you that now I am able to go on vacation for a week to some place exotic and warm, but I cannot. There is more work to be done, and so, I forage on.

I'm selling these altered prints of drawings this Saturday at the Market Square Farmers' Market at $4 a piece. Why? Because I love you.

Learn more about them here.



I'll also be selling the original drwaings for bundles of money, if that interests you. Just kidding, but really. The drawings are 5 x 7" and most are framed.



I'll have Mason Jars paintings and salvage for sale, too. But don't feel like you have to buy anything. It's always nice when people stop and say hello.

photo by Tinah Utsman

Here are the mason jar paintings I donated to Knox Heritage's fall fundraiser called The Scruffy City Soiree.

This leads me to give some advice: If you're looking to gain some exposure for your artwork, consider donating to an auction for an organization whose cause you can get behind. It puts your work in front of potential buyers of your work while also supporting a good cause. Win win.

Just make sure when you drop off your piece to include some business cards and a short artist statement.

Class dismissed.

A friend of mine and fellow blogger called me out last night for not blogging last week, thus breaking one of the rules I set out for this blog in the beginning. I appreciated it very much and found his prodding encouraging, as I still don't know what to think about this whole blogging thing anyway.

I began this as a way to stretch myself as an artist, to talk about the artwork I'm making, etc., but the problem is that most of the time, the things I want to write about have nothing to do with art. I hesitate to treat this like some sort of diary or a place to push my agenda about things.

I'd like it to be more like those happy, cute, sun-shiney design blogs out there, where everything posted is sleek and beautiful and makes readers feel like crap because their life will never look or be like that.

But the truth of the matter is that that's probably not going to happen, and what I and any artist knows is that writing about life is writing about art. Everything that passes through my life is reflected in what I make; making things processes all the information going in.

I'm scared, though, to be too honest here. I like the fact that people read this blog, even if they are just being nice to me, and I don't want to scare anyone off with things that aren't sun-shiney and bright.

The stupid thing is, if you know me, you know that I don't really have a filter for the things that I say, and also, that I am melancholy by nature. So why have a blog that is the opposite of my actual demeanor? To tell the truth, I've been trying the bullshit theory- that even if things aren't going well, project to people that they are, and they'll believe, and through the art of deceit, you will gain success. Or something along those lines.

***

I've been beginning a lot of sentences with the phrase "To be honest" recently. In seeking out and fighting for the life that I want to live, I have to catch myself lying all of the time, I have to go back to people and say, "You know when I said this, well, I actually meant that," or "You know when I didn't say anything then, I wish I had said this." In trying to be more truthful in real life, I want to do that here as well, so I hope you'll bear with me as I try this with some amount of grace, because to be honest, I'd like to let some f-bombs fly, which I know most people wouldn't mind, but I know many that would.

***

So when my friend called me out for not writing last week, what I really wanted to say was, "You know, last week was pretty terrible, and if I wrote about it, it wouldn't have been sun-shiney and bright, and does anyone want to read about me hitting a low point anyway?"

And as those words leave my fingertips, I'll get into it, because maybe it will help things get a little better. Maybe.

So the truth is, last week was rough for several reasons. For one, a deep friendship has become severed because of a disagreement, and I don't know what to do. It's painful and has made me hermit-ish and quiet. But I went out last night and enjoyed spending time with people I would like to know better, and as a result, feel more like a human being.

Two, my wrists and hands are in pain, so much so that if I don't take several advil a day, I can't sleep or do any work, and I'm really scared that the pain won't go away and am worried because I don't have any time to lose as I prepare for an art show in November. But it's making me slow down and think about changing things/ ideas which is good.

And, I saw a man that I've been pining over for quite some time holding another woman's hand. And instead of running the other way like I wanted to do, I shook her hand and said, "It's nice to meet you." And even though I like him very much, I've known all along he wouldn't be good for me. So it's fine in the grand scheme of things, but it hurts a little. Ok, more than a little.

And, I've been working 12 hour days and weekend nights, which is hard, but good, because if I "fail" at pursuing art, I have to know that I tried as hard as I could. And I'm realizing, in the end, I may have to give it up, but not yet. I'm still crazy (or stupid) enough to keep going with it. I'm going as fast as I can (which seems like a snail's pace) moving forward, and I get pangs of "What the h am I doing?!" but I beat the crap out of those thoughts because I've learned you have to be ruthless when pursuing a dream.

And there's more, but I'll stop there.

To be honest, I don't know if I feel any better, but the good news for today is, (besides this post) I'm not working, and that will be hard, but very very good.

Living in Knoxville is pretty spectacular. I'm a big fan, you can ask anybody, but there are fleeting moments when I get a little antsy here.

It helps, in these moments, to focus on the things that make Knoxville great, the natural beauty, the people, the local businesses. One such business on this list that I've always admired is Yee-Haw Industrial Letterpress.





When Julie Belcher and Kevin Bradley joined forces in 1996 to create Yee-Haw, they were pioneers in reviving the practice of Industrial Letterpress. To see their shop thrive on Gay Street for the decade I've been in Knoxville, to know they create and sell artwork in a city that doesn't sustain its artists, to me, it's so exciting. Their work as creative entrepreneurs is impressive and has always made me a little starstruck.

With that said, I'm pleased to share (giddy, in fact) that Yee-Haw has recently asked me to be in an art exhibition with them. I'm one of four artists to show work alongside their prints this coming weekend, August 19-21, at the Slotin Folk Fest in Norcross, GA, just outside of Atlanta. Folk Fest is the world's largest folk art show and sale.



They've asked for twenty of my Mason Jar paintings, and so at this very moment, I'm in my studio busting them out. After I make these, I'll have a few more to make to reach my goal of 100, and then I'll be done.

If you've been thinking about purchasing one, you still have a chance to do so via Etsy, the Market Square Farmer's this Saturday from 9-2pm, or by emailing me at beth@bethmeadows.com. 

My sister made me curtains recently. They're pretty cute.



We've talked briefly about starting a business together, one where we make beautiful things and sell them. I would be the artsy side and she would craftsy side.

When I daydream about this, I imagine us living at our grandparents' farmhouse (which is for sale) in Dancyville, just east of Memphis. There we would run a kennel for rescued dogs and cats and we would make things and collect things all the live long day.

My brother-in-law would be there, too, of course, and he'd help with furniture building because he is good at things like that. My other sister would come in on the weekends to hug cats and play the clarinet for us. Juicy would have acres of cotton fields in which to roll around.



Our studio would hold a sewing machine, a screen printing area, easels, paint, papers, fabrics, etc.. We would make the storage room outside in between the house and the cotton fields into a wood shop. People would come stay with us, cook with us, clean with us, make things with us. They could take a dog for a walk each morning.



There is a room off the porch of the farmhouse where an old desk and wooden toys and a pad of paper and pencil are kept. I love that room. When I was younger, I could be by myself for hours and it was like minutes. Who knows what I thought about, dreamed about. I think it was training for all the time I'd spend being alone once I was older**, though I'm not as good at it now as I was back then.



Inside the house, in the living room, my grandmother displayed antique purses and make-up cases. I'd hold them, covet them. My grandfather, a former dairy man, collected all things cow-themed and all things dairy. I didn't know the extent of his collection until they put the house up for sale and began cleaning out rooms- bookcases full of cow shaped cream pitchers, butter molds, and milk bottles.



I share this love for antiques, old things beautifully crafted, with my grandparents, I'm sure I get that quality from them, but mixed in is a certain contemporary flair. I am a thrift store fiend (more on that later), so also with our studio-bed and breakfast-kennel, I would have a room stocked full of my findings- vintage clothes and shoes, tinted cut glassware, wooden boxes, mason jars, metal filing boxes, the list goes on.





I'd collect and all of us would make.

And we'd sell everything via the internet and make buckets of money to buy our rescued dogs leather collars, and to make lavish meals for guests, and to send each of us on trips to play with orphans in South America, Africa, and India. And I'd finally get to go to Japan.

A simple life is all I want.

...but I also want the city.

*Sally, from Peanuts in A Charlie Brown Christmas
**I don't mean this as much in a pathetic way, but more being factual about the life of an artist.

So I've been meaning to write about a little business venture I've been pursuing, and it is that of painting mason jars on pieces of salvaged wood.



I realize to the trained eye, these paintings are kitschy. (Don't think I don't know this. I know!)



But this is kind of the point.


This is the first one I ever did!

I have mentioned this before. I'm the Architectural Salvage Coordinator for Knox Heritage which means I head up a program where people like yourself can donate old building materials instead of throwing them away. We don't salvage out of houses that are going to be torn down because we are anti-tearing down historic houses/buildings, but we do take items here and there that people have laying around after home-improvement/updating projects, and even some things from larger commercial renovations.



It all began at work. I was drawing in a staff meeting at Knox Heritage last year (They knew this, by the way) I was trying to think of a symbol that I could paint on pieces of old wood that had the theme of preservation, something people could relate to, something that could help spread the word about our program, and a light bulb went on: a Mason Jar! It was the kind of idea that you know someone else has thought of, but I decided not to care. Lots of thought to come to the idea, and once the idea came, lots of doing, and less thought (This method is an art in itself).



It's been pretty interesting to make so many of one thing. I paint them in between painting larger, more thoughtful works on canvas. It is nice to have a side project that I enjoy, that is repetitive, sort of mindless.



The first one I sold was at the Riverdale County Fair out in East Knox County.






















Now I sell them via Etsy and at the Market Square Farmers' Market every first and third Saturday of the month. I have mailed them to Colorado, Maryland, Chicago, NYC... I'm a dork; It is so much fun to mail these paintings!



I have plans to make at least 100; I am on number 40, I think. After that, I have a feeling I won't want to paint another mason jar ever again. I don't know yet, but I have to think of another good idea to pick up before number 100. I kind of like this idea of doing editions of 100- more marketable, smaller, folksier art that I can do alongside the other work I am making. I'm trusting I'll get a new idea while making Mason Jar No. 99.

Today I read this post about being a shy business woman on Design Sponge. This article should have begun with "Dear Beth Meadows,"

***

I'm in the midst of trying to pursue painting. As a career? I don't know. All I know is that I love to paint, and I will do what it takes to keep painting.

I realize in order to make this happen I have to kick up my business know-how several notches. The problem is, I am in no way inclined to be a business woman, and if I have deceived anyone into thinking I'm good at it, know that it came with much struggle.

Most artists are solely made to make work, not to be business people, but the world demands us to get out there and promote ourselves. I hate it, most artists do, but we realize we have to go out on a limb if we want to keep making work.

So many artists, however, can't promote themselves without being pretentious, arrogant, or annoying. I sat through many artist lectures at the University of Tennessee which proved this to be true.

This leads me to ask myself: How do I promote myself without being annoying to myself and others? How do I promote myself without sounding arrogant? When I post anything about art on Facebook, how many people does it annoy? Can I still be introverted and awkward? What is the likelihood of someone becoming my benefactor/ agent?

I'll share the answers as I learn them.