Or at least it hasn’t been –– just gloom and humidity, with intermissions of wind and rain. An impression of weak sun, here and there. WAKE UP.
Summer is hard on the artist. Rounding the corner into July, which announces itself as SUMMER in the same way that Godzilla enters a room –– no matter what the weather, YOU WILL HAVE FUN, YOU MUST BE HAVING FUN –– one can almost feel the psychic descent that takes place, as all plans go out the window, and the notion of work becomes a mannequin heaved to the sidewalk. All around you, all the time, nothing is getting done.
But art doesn’t like to be picked up and discarded at one’s convenience. Certainly, there are ebbs and flows, but ‘breaks’ have a certain price tag attached –– muscles not used, imagination in decay.
For me, the fact that I have a studio that I pay for exclusively with proceeds from my visual art and writing demands that I use it consistently and effectively. It means discipline. It means going in there regularly and making something from nothing.
I have two weeks coming up where I should get to do a lot of work in a hurry. Wish me luck.
cigar-tin story – Draycott / / an original painting on a dessert cigar tin which contains an accordion booklet of an original short story
Draycott is the story of bus ride out to the edges. You can hear it here.
I used to number my cigar-tin stories but at some point (around the 180 mark, I think?), between selling online and in-person, I lost track and couldn’t keep them straight. So now I just label them by the story, even though some stories might appear in two or three different tins over time (I probably have about 60 published stories and another 100 unpublished stories to choose from).
I find it easier to sell these in person, when I can put the cigar-tin story into someone’s hands and explain to them that they’re holding a one-of-a-kind, original art object, something priced to work as a highly unique collectible or gift.
The online aspect is still a real struggle. I keep thinking that I’m going to reach some magical point where I’ve put in enough hustle and I’ve reached a large enough audience and I’ve won enough customers (or even patrons) that it will all go on autopilot and I’ll only have to worry about producing enough work … but that never happens. And all I can do is keep working.
The best way to come into the studio in the morning is to find it already set up for work. If you take the time to do this before you leave the previous evening, then the next day you can just walk in, take off your jacket, open your coffee, and start to work. For an artist, this is like sitting down to dinner.
The aftermath of three cigar-tin stories. I don’t paint the covers with any idea in mind; I just find three reference pictures that are compelling in some way. That’s it. To proceed in any other fashion is to be self-conscious (once you start thinking too much about what you’re doing, you’re in trouble). It’s only afterwards that I try to match the image with a story –– which isn’t that difficult since I literally have hundreds of stories, writing something new every week for my Ban Righ writer’s group.