So the Artwalk is finished. It was a lot of work just to sell art to my family. Alright, I did sell a print to my old english teacher, and a painting to a young woman.
The first day was terribly windy. Every time my tent would lift, or a painting would bang against the grid wall I would stand and touch a part of the tent with my finger tips.
The second day was better. But I still couldn’t get rid of that old feeling of pessimism. Many people looked, even lingered but it always felt like there was something holding them back. It was as if their wallets were chained to their purses or taped to the inside of their pockets. The people that were interested in my Kafka piece, or Oscar the owl couldn’t afford it.
I sat under my tent watching folks clutch wrapped paintings in their hands. They walked by. Some even looked and shrugged at my art. Ok – that might have only happened in my imagination.
Most of the paintings that were bound for a new home were of trees, birds, flowers, cartoon characters, and humdrum landscapes. I sound pretty bitter, don’t I?
Maybe I am. This is turning into a rant quicker than I expected.
Here is what I am thinking. People buy paintings of general things – flowers, and things that most people like. Therefore, artists paint flowers and things that most people like. Yes, I paint flowers – but the thing is I don’t paint enough of them. I have to overwhelm people with flowers and landscapes and trees.
On the last day of the ArtWalk I caught myself pondering that “I should paint more flowers, and scenes of Paris.”
Today – maybe its just because it feels like everything else around me is crumbling – I refuse to paint more flowers. If I do, it will only be because I want to.
Regardless, I don’t think I will be painting for quite some time. My mind feels tired, and numb. It feels like it did before I got back into painting – a simultaneous draw and resistance towards painting. The resistance is more powerful.