Art Is a Strange Beast

Just got back from the Mayfair by-the-lake art show in beautiful downtown Lakeland. Once again, not much to show for our efforts but a tan — and the new connections with very nice people, specifically the artists. Not their great works, per se, but their earnest interest and kind, generous words.

Beforehand, I was wallowing deep in indecision as to continue this tack. Then, several conversations ensued with folks who approached me to express their appreciation for my artworks. These were also artists, and their encouragement and discussion regarding how to find a channel that met both my urge to create and show, and a potential customer base. Productive, positive vibes. Thanks.

When things start to turn commercial, I admit, I begin to lose it. I've always turned AWAY FROM the money, and I'm not really sure why. Perhaps I sense it's corrupting. Perhaps money's not something that I really need so badly; lucky, but still relatively broke. Perhaps the whole gig of being an artist is all a little pompous and preposterous. I wish I knew. I DO know that I prefer to stay in the shallow waters; I've met too many folks with an inflated sense of self worth that gets them in way over their head. Never pretty.

Art is a strange beast. I have acquired — or been blessed with — a certain skill set or two that I can at-will choose to exercise for various reasons: To explore my own psyche; catapult a venture; impress the impressionable; make a quick a buck — or not...  Each seems at odds with the other. Can all of these be accomplished simultaneously, without contradiction? Dunno.

So, while I have a little time before the fall season to consider/reconsider putting out more money on entry fees, lots of introspection will occur as I finish some carpentry and masonry jobs around the house in the summer heat. Always good to have these types of questions running through my mind while laboring, rather than regret or fantasy. At least their consideration will ultimately bear some fruit. And I'm feeling hungry.

Below: My latest painting (a self portrait) and the tent as viewed from the promenade. Do I look just a little angst-ridden?