These three small abstracts will be somewhere on display in the main galleries at the King’s Lynn Arts Centre from this weekend to the 22nd May 2010.
Three postcards
They will be for sale at £20 each, as are all the mini art postcards works on show. I hope that someone likes them enough to buy them because I spent ages on them, trying to effect the bleak midwinter Suffolk landscape in an abstracted form – dark clods of striated earth, the light dusting of a frost in the furrows, the dull yellowy grey white skies. I like winter because it seems quieter (but it is not) and less fussy, stripped of all the showiness of nature in full bloom. Daffodils? Who wants to be given flowers with an ugly trumpet nose and no scent? Let them wilt and wither… I sketched this tree yesterday, a wonderfully knotted, gnarled and probably quite dead oak, but still looking quite dignified in the middle of a lush green meadow near the river…
Sketchbook study of an oak tree, in wax crayon, watercolour and pencil
I have also been asked to donate an artwork (not just any artwork mind, but a high quality, statement piece to attract those lucrative buyers) to an art auction, which, if it sells (and all works will sell if they start the bidding at just £1), myself as the artist will receive nothing. In all other respects using art to raise funds for this organisation (and I may or may not benefit from it indirectly in the future – it is another art collective that I currently belong to) is a very good thing, but I am struggling to find the ends let alone make those ends meet. If my work sells I’d quite like to have a small cut, if only for the fact that I have invested both time and money into creating it. Shouldn’t the creator, the artist also be a small beneficiary in the transaction? Would they perhaps like to bid on this page from my sketchbook instead – it only took about two minutes, so in time and money it’s not worth so much…
Sketchbook drawing – coppiced hazel near the riverbank, graphite on paper
…
Today I discovered a small artwork on Etsy (a drawing, not a painting) that I immediately liked and I wanted to buy it because: 1. I just knew I would enjoy looking at it day after day; and 2. I looked at the artist’s website and I quickly gleaned that this artist was earnest, sensitive, skillful and talented. They were not spewing out some random, vomity paintings (with the sides nicely painted), or offering to make said VPs to order (an example of the artist’s incredible range of styles). However, VPs aside, I knew that by buying the small artwork on Etsy that I would contribute to that artist’s wellbeing somehow, and it would motivate them to keep making new work, and would further validate them as a professional artist. I also thought the drawing might go quite nicely with another piece of art I have – I have but a very small art collection… but I’m working on it.
Some artists state that they work full-time but this is not to say that all of them are making a living wage from selling their art, say in excess of £15,000 per year, which is significantly below the current national average wage. Artists find other means of support such as teaching (as I do), or the support of family in their basic living or accommodation needs. Most artists are resolute and dedicated professionals and that means doing other in-between jobs to support the making of their work – but it would be too detracting to say you were an office clerk or a labourer for some of the week – professional artists are full-time regardless of the day job.
Dig a little, and you find artists have jobs in every conceivable employment sector, from supermarkets and shops (which I did, as a post-grad student) to working in factories or warehouses (which I also did for a brief period prior to taking up teaching). My eight 50 hour weeks working in a toy warehouse was the most tiring, mundane (and noisy) job ever – any creative drive I thought I possessed immediately faded into the grey cardboard dust of the windowless storeroom. I created no art during this period. However, other jobs such as office administration and customer service do provide the transferable skills, that can contribute positively to the professionalism of the artist.
I once worked evenings in the call centre of a large mail-order company – I tolerated it because I knew it was only temporary to Christmas, but I hated sitting still for hours in front of a computer. I had to learn everything in the catalogue – all the special order/dept codes – which, as they were mainly toys and gadgets was perhaps not so dull! When they asked me back the following year I asked to work in packing and dispatch. I also had a job working in a dispensary where I had many diverse duties such as stock-taking and ordering, weighing, measuring and labelling, dispatching parcels and order tracking – made more interesting in the variety of tasks and the support of a close-knit, fun team. Probably the most interesting job I have had was as an usherette at a notable music venue in London – when I left I had to give the torch back.
So, when I get the opportunity to exhibit my artwork it displaces any despondency I might have about not yet making it as an artist. However, the imminent changes in education funding mean that teaching hours are likely to be cut - illusively referred to as a ‘more for less’ policy. This has created some anxiety to say the least. I don’t know what will happen but in the meantime I will have to survive – but many creative opportunities are lost this way – I miss travelling, seeing new things and meeting new people.
So, if someone says art!, is that a real job? what do you really do for a living?.. or even worse, is that really art?! my dog could paint that!, then I would have to reply gracefully – Yes, art is a real job, a job that requires skill, sensitivity and intelligence - and… your dog paints?
…
I wrote too much already, too much lazing on a sunny afternoon…
