I spent the first hour of work this morning alongside a sweet, elderly woman. We stood outside her pretty home, the sky overcast above us, looking at a decorative wrought iron fence. It has been lying under the large Magnolia Tree in her side yard ever since it was removed from her in-law's home, which was demolished to make way for a shopping center.
Despite wanting to, she could never find a way to make it work outside of her house, so she is giving it to me.
"There's another piece lying around here somewhere," she said as she pushed back the branches of the tree.
"There it is!"
We hunched down amongst the branches, neither of us dressed to get dirty, and moved the earth away with our hands, uncovering elaborately curving metal. She was more eager to free it, as evidenced by the mud that caked her hands, but I'll have to return with proper clothes and tools another day. Then will start my mission to find the person who will transform these pieces back to their former state, to be used once again for what they were intended.
If an artist tells you they like making commissioned pieces, they need money, and they are lying.
The problem with commissions is that they turn making art into making money, which can be depressing for the creatively inclined. Obviously, most artists would rather a buyer be interested in what they have already made than making something with perimeters from someone else.
A commission also means pleasing the buyer during the art-making process, but we (artists) are plagued by the fact that we're on a different wavelength than others. We've embraced that we're off beat, and trying to please a normal person with enough money to commission a painting can be overwhelming.
I know I like this penguin riding a shark in the middle of a field, but will they?
This is why I never went into graphic design. Yes, it might have meant worrying less about finances, but it would have also meant being a slave to the client over and over again. Not to mention I'm technologically stunted.
The Eaton's Home
acrylic on artist panel
18 x 24"
2010
Of course, after all this complaining, I have to say I'm incredibly thankful for the commissions that have come my way. My last commissioned painting of 2010 was how I bought my family's Christmas presents, after all, and I couldn't be happier with the outcome or the reaction I received from it.
It was a painting of my friends' home in North Knoxville, a Birthday/ Christmas surprise from Lesley Eaton (of Peppered Paper) to her husband Laurence.
And so I've found a commission I like: painting people's historic homes. For one, working from a photograph is less stressful because it's straightforward; there's no risk of putting something in that they won't like. Two: I know they like my style going into it, so I can relax about making it my own. Three: It's exciting to be a part of making something that is so personal to a family, and in the Eaton's case, even more so because this is their first home which I know they've put a lot of work into. Four: I like knowing I'm documenting an old structure. I see it as a way to preserve heritage.
***
And just to clarify. Yes! I would love to do a commissioned painting for you, as long as you like penguins riding sharks in fields.
The problem with commissions is that they turn making art into making money, which can be depressing for the creatively inclined. Obviously, most artists would rather a buyer be interested in what they have already made than making something with perimeters from someone else.
A commission also means pleasing the buyer during the art-making process, but we (artists) are plagued by the fact that we're on a different wavelength than others. We've embraced that we're off beat, and trying to please a normal person with enough money to commission a painting can be overwhelming.
I know I like this penguin riding a shark in the middle of a field, but will they?
This is why I never went into graphic design. Yes, it might have meant worrying less about finances, but it would have also meant being a slave to the client over and over again. Not to mention I'm technologically stunted.
The Eaton's Home
acrylic on artist panel
18 x 24"
2010
Of course, after all this complaining, I have to say I'm incredibly thankful for the commissions that have come my way. My last commissioned painting of 2010 was how I bought my family's Christmas presents, after all, and I couldn't be happier with the outcome or the reaction I received from it.
It was a painting of my friends' home in North Knoxville, a Birthday/ Christmas surprise from Lesley Eaton (of Peppered Paper) to her husband Laurence.
And so I've found a commission I like: painting people's historic homes. For one, working from a photograph is less stressful because it's straightforward; there's no risk of putting something in that they won't like. Two: I know they like my style going into it, so I can relax about making it my own. Three: It's exciting to be a part of making something that is so personal to a family, and in the Eaton's case, even more so because this is their first home which I know they've put a lot of work into. Four: I like knowing I'm documenting an old structure. I see it as a way to preserve heritage.
***
And just to clarify. Yes! I would love to do a commissioned painting for you, as long as you like penguins riding sharks in fields.
three: make posts as short and sweet as possible.
four: try not to become obsessed with documenting everything I see, think, and do.
four: try not to become obsessed with documenting everything I see, think, and do.
I've been craving sushi a lot lately.
I decided instead of going to a restaurant, though, that I'd buy the ingredients and make enough for a week- a proper response to all the holiday-inspired crap I've been eating the past few weeks.
I went to the fancy Kroger tonight, where I knew they'd carry the items I needed. I was almost ready to check out when I decided to run down the household aisle to see if there was anything I needed.
While there, I noticed an Asian man (pardon my uncultured-self for not knowing what country he was from) kneeling down in front of the Baby section, looking back and forth between a small list of items and the sea of products in front of him. It was obvious he was having a difficult time.
I passed him by and left the aisle with a pang of guilt for not helping him. He'll figure it out eventually.
But then I had this image of his small adorable wife with their baby in one arm, handing him that list earlier in the evening. "Make sure you get exactly what this says," she'd say, except not in English.
And I thought about how overwhelming grocery shopping is for me, a speaker of English- all the different brands and prices and slight differences in ingredients. It's too much.
These thoughts combined caused me to wheel my mini-cart (I love the fancy Kroger!) around and walk back to the Baby section where I found the man still on his knees.
After pretending for a few moments to look for items for my fake baby, I asked if he needed any help. "Yes!" he exclaimed as if he was waiting for someone to ask.
Even with my assistance, I'm not sure if we got what his wife needed. The bizarre twist of this story is that after I got over myself and helped this man, he told me he worked in the Sushi section. It was only then I noticed his hat said KROGER.
He got up off of his knees and asked me to follow him. Moments later, I used my hands to stuff my mouth with one eel roll and one blue crab roll that he had freshly prepared for me. He didn't box the rolls up for me to take home like I expected; he wanted me to eat them right there.
People walked by, confused, yet amused. I felt the same way, with a bit of gratefulness mixed in.
this is not him, btw
I decided instead of going to a restaurant, though, that I'd buy the ingredients and make enough for a week- a proper response to all the holiday-inspired crap I've been eating the past few weeks.
I went to the fancy Kroger tonight, where I knew they'd carry the items I needed. I was almost ready to check out when I decided to run down the household aisle to see if there was anything I needed.
While there, I noticed an Asian man (pardon my uncultured-self for not knowing what country he was from) kneeling down in front of the Baby section, looking back and forth between a small list of items and the sea of products in front of him. It was obvious he was having a difficult time.
I passed him by and left the aisle with a pang of guilt for not helping him. He'll figure it out eventually.
But then I had this image of his small adorable wife with their baby in one arm, handing him that list earlier in the evening. "Make sure you get exactly what this says," she'd say, except not in English.
And I thought about how overwhelming grocery shopping is for me, a speaker of English- all the different brands and prices and slight differences in ingredients. It's too much.
These thoughts combined caused me to wheel my mini-cart (I love the fancy Kroger!) around and walk back to the Baby section where I found the man still on his knees.
After pretending for a few moments to look for items for my fake baby, I asked if he needed any help. "Yes!" he exclaimed as if he was waiting for someone to ask.
Even with my assistance, I'm not sure if we got what his wife needed. The bizarre twist of this story is that after I got over myself and helped this man, he told me he worked in the Sushi section. It was only then I noticed his hat said KROGER.
He got up off of his knees and asked me to follow him. Moments later, I used my hands to stuff my mouth with one eel roll and one blue crab roll that he had freshly prepared for me. He didn't box the rolls up for me to take home like I expected; he wanted me to eat them right there.
People walked by, confused, yet amused. I felt the same way, with a bit of gratefulness mixed in.
this is not him, btw
I've been toying with this idea for a while now and am finally taking the plunge. It's really about time.
The purpose is mostly to document and write about the things I make, but I'm not limiting myself to just that.
My only two goals at this point are:
one: to post at least once a week and
two: not to post photos of my cat twice in a row.
Other than that, the possibilities are endlessssssssssssss...
...but just to get things rolling, here's a picture of my cat:
The purpose is mostly to document and write about the things I make, but I'm not limiting myself to just that.
My only two goals at this point are:
one: to post at least once a week and
two: not to post photos of my cat twice in a row.
Other than that, the possibilities are endlessssssssssssss...
...but just to get things rolling, here's a picture of my cat: