An Emotional Bouncy House Ball to the Face

We are here for the fun, thank you very much!

In the last Nibbler banged out on a chilly, power-insecure evening, I mentioned two blog posts that had been simmering on the back burner of my brain, but they can be combined into one extra-long bloviated post. So. Buckle up. Here we go!

We will be here for a moment - yes, another cup of tea is in order.

I was asking myself and as an extension (you) why my sales in the gallery had slumped, and then I was going to explain why I went out and got a job. But at the end of the day, the two are interwoven and interconnected.

Ever since I posed the questions to you, my Snacky, Nibbly readers, I’ve been rolling them around in my head because, as of two weeks ago, I didn’t know what had changed so dramatically for my sales in the gallery to be twisting in the wind like a dancing tubeman outside of a used car dealer.

As a refresher, this was part of the post from two weeks ago:

• I had an exceptionally slow fall/winter in the gallery (the gallery did just fine), so I’ve had time to play and experiment with new techniques in my garage studio. This has been fun, and I am excited to show off some terrible art, which I’m okay making in the spirit of experimentation.

However!!

I have had to manage the emotional tidal wave of realizing the gallery did just fine… it was my art that did NOT do just fine.

Did it change?
Did I change?
Is it bad? Was it ever good?
Are people bored with it?
Am I bored with it……? OH, no.

I’ve queried other gallery members.
We discussed color pallets, composition, position in the gallery, the bizarre emotional backflips of accepting private commissions, and how that somehow affects many other art choices.
And so many other reasons for the change in my sales have been batted about by well-meaning, truly loving people in my community.

And THEN I had a conversation with a friend whom I had not spoken to in a few months; they were commenting on the last Nibbler and how much they laughed and laughed at the descriptions and the photo of Roxy under the covers and looking highly perturbed.
I said, “That issue of the Nibbler was such a wild ass swing to get out on time, but I love writing it, and I will do everything in my power to get it out the door!”
My friend replied, “I can tell how much fun you have writing it. Your joy and enthusiasm come through in every issue.”

And that, my friends, is when the penny dropped like hot cast iron on a cold cement floor.

It was sooooo obvious - in hindsight.

Somewhere along the way, I became so consumed with sales that I stopped having fun making art…(muffled gagging noises)!

BOOF!
That’s a hard sentence to stomach. 👆🏼

Do you suppose this is why my eye has been twitching?

I don’t even know when it happened.

One minute, being in the garage painting with wax and making a GIANT mess was the most fun I’ve ever had, and Matt was begging me to come inside and eat a cold gelatinous dinner at 9 pm, and the next, being in the garage was something I had to do.

I was tired and stressed and couldn't keep my gallery wall full, so I quit my day job, thinking I was good to go with this whole “art thing.”
(A highly technical term, in case you were wondering).

Then I started being stressed about money and paying my bills because, fun fact - the bills keep coming even if you don’t sell any paintings, which is a total fucking bummer.
And selling a THOUSAND DOLLAR painting is the coolest thing in the world, but that only keeps the heat on for 4 months, which, again, at the risk of sounding repetitive - is a total fucking bummer.

Then, magically, my wall started staying full…all the time.
Pro- tip: Be exceedingly careful what you wish for.

After this realization, Roxy and I went to the beach and walked in the rain for a long time, and I mean…
A.
Reallllyyyy.
Long.
Time.
The further I walked, the more things came into focus.

Primarily, this -
Hundreds of thousands of artists in the world are more talented and technically skilled and have better composition, color palette, on-camera dancing skills, etc., than me and my art.
I don’t begrudge any of them any of it.
The art that gets my goat, the art that gets my Envy Engine revved up and in the red, is the art that’s playful and fun and loose….
…a lot like mine used to be.

I am gutted.
Totally fucking gutted.
I let money and my drive to “be an artist” kill the art.
Godammat capitalism!!! You fickle bitch!

Whereas when I’m writing to you here in this space, I am writing the silliest love letter I can manage to my favorite people.
And you are my favorite people because you are here showing up for everything that is ridiculous.
This newsletter should be called the Willy Nilly because this is where I let it all hang out.
It's more than hanging out, actually.
I push on it, and I lean on it to make it the silliest, the most fun.
Writing to you is like being in an emotional bouncy house ball pit at a party in which the art supplies and the cake are never-ending, all my friends are actually here, everyone is laughing, and the best songs are always playing.
Like the Barbie movie, but on A LOT of crack cocaine.

So thank you for this.
Thank you, my dear, lovely readers, for allowing me this space, showing up here, and sharing it with me. It’s an honor to have this place in your inbox. Thank you for trusting me with your time, and I hope, in return, you receive many giggles and a bounce house ball to the face in the best possible way.