Caustic

"You see, I decided five years ago that I was done with fitting in, and that I'd rather be lonely and alone, than to continue immersing myself in a world I found caustic.

Everywhere I looked people seemed to be shouting, trying to make their voices heard.
The most recent clever story on facebook.
The most wittily stated opinion.
I didn't see kindness, I saw intolerance and rudeness.
I saw people ripping each other down through the medium of social media because they didn't have to look that person in the face, and see how their comments hurt them.
Then I watched as that attitude seemed to make people less tolerant in the real world as well.
I wanted no part of it anymore.
From that point on I was standing alone, and that was that." -Gingerbread

 

Art Show Fiasco

I was supposed to an ART show yesterday.
All week we prepared for it.
Weeks ago we purchased our first pop-up tent.
JP built me a podium; not so that I could pontificate from but for writing out invoices, running charge payments, etc.

We loaded up the truck very early yesterday morning and set out for the site. And then I proceeded to have a massive literal anxiety attack.
The whole way there.
Full on, doesn't-get-much-worse-than-this panic.
It didn't make sense. I've been doing this art thing for years now. I do solo shows and artist receptions where the spotlight is 100% on me and I have to be "on" and sociable. I might get the jitters a little bit at these kinds of events but honest to goodness panic? No way.

I could not figure out what the heck was going on with me.
But leading up to yesterday I kept getting that awful foreboding feeling. You know, that dread kind of feeling that pops up. Really, really weird.
And then we got there.

Here's what happened next:

• We arrived at the entrance gate of the park the event was being held in. Park also has a marina. We arrived just in time to witness the organizers telling a man that he could not enter the park to get to his boat at the marina because there was an event happening. Understandably the man was less than happy and was expressing that while using various words that looked like this: &*$#*&!@#. The man proceeded to blast his horn at cars that were blocking his access while shouting out of his car window at the organizers who were shouting back at him. Man then drove maniacally past the organizers who were trying to stop him from entering and getting to his boat. Similar to a Seinfeld episode. Ooooookay. 
• At the entrance gate, I gave my name to the woman in charge who had a checklist in her hand with vendor names and their assigned space numbers. She scanned the list then THRUST it at me and said "here, you read it. See if you find your name. I can't see today." Ooooookay. 
• I found my name and got my spot number. I asked her where #25 was and she said she "had no idea"...and with a jerk of a her head said that we should "go ask the lady at the white tent". Ooooookay. 
• The lady in the only white tent there at that time had nothing whatsoever to do with the event; she was a vendor. We found spot # 25 on our own. It was approximately 4x6. This is a problem. Woman on organizer team told us there was plenty of room for a table. We have a 10x10 tent, no tables. Framed artwork that hangs on panels. Big problem.
• Some other woman was running around trying to solve the problems that were popping up all around us. We told her that our site wouldn't work for us. She told us to set up our tent OVER the sidewalk that was next to the tiny site we were assigned. 
•  Then she told us that we couldn't park where we were parked. 
• Then she told us that we couldn't set up our tent until everyone around us set up theirs because our tent would block them from getting out. 
• Some other woman came along who told us to take another spot across from the tiny one. No matter that that spot was assigned to another vendor. The other spot had a giant divot in the ground. So if we set up our tent over it we ran the risk of having potential customers who entered our tent break/sprain/twist their ankles or fall. 
• Vendor behind us arrived only to find out that her assigned spot had a tree directly in the middle of it. 
• I sat back in the truck to calm down and quell the panic. JP stayed outside having even more ludicrous conversations and encounters. I was praying he didn't explode on anyone. 
• Vendors around us were setting up to sell their flea market-type items. This was billed as an Art & Music Festival. 

Finally we looked at each other and said let's just go home. 

There was more. Oh so much more.
The stuff above were just the highlights. Or lowlights.

We're still reeling.

I want to write a post about red flags to look for with these types of shows but right now I don't know where to begin.
Two days before this show I realized that I never actually received any type of communication from them after I sent in my application and payment. This was a big fail on my part...but an even bigger one on their part.
So right away I emailed. No response.
I left messages on their Facebook pages. No response.
I called and finally got a response. The organizer told me verbatim - and I wish so hard that I was kidding - "I don't have time to contact everyone and let them know I received their payment and give them their site assignment."
Then, lady, you have no business attempting to run this kind of event because you're really, really bad at it.
But all of this explains perfectly my anxiety attack.
And cements my commitment to pay attention to and trust implicitly my gut feelings. I knew some thing was off. What an understatement that turned out to be.

The only words of advice I have right now are:

1. Make sure the organizers are communicating often and in detail. 
2. Make sure your spot is the right size! This seems like a given but maybe not. 

 I just hope I can get past the very strong trepidation I'm feeling right now about doing these kinds of shows in the future.


 

Random (Weird) Thoughts, Vol. 1

The ice cream place around the corner just posted that they are getting ready to close in a couple of days.
This makes no sense to me.
People want to eat ice cream all the time.  Even in not summer.  Maybe not so much in February, but definitely in October and November and December.  Closing in the middle of the pumpkin spice season is not good business sense.
Reasons To Eat Ice Cream In Winter

As a lifelong word snob, I can't stand when people write WOAH when they mean WHOA!
Woah rhymes with Noah and is all kinds of wrong.  I am not alone in my disdain for this.
I also can't stand when people say anyways...adding that stupid extraneous 's' on the end so that they sound like a prepubescent young girl who is trying to sound cutesy.
But the big, giant word-related irk of mine is when someone uses the word 'overwhelm' as a noun.
Are you suffering from overwhelm?  We can help with your overwhelm! 
I don't care that language and usage evolve; it's a damn verb all day long.

 

A Migraine & A Farm

I just made a McDonald's migraine run.  What that means is that I woke up with a pretty good migraine today (6/10) and part of my arsenal for treating a migraine involves eating a salty/greasy breakfast with a fountain coke - even if I have to sometimes force myself to eat.  The drive-thru people were looking at me all weird so I can image that I have that lovely migraine-induced look of derangement.

"One Egg McMuffin meal with a coke, please."

And I'm sure they were judging me for ordering a Coke at 8am. 😩

Today will be a salty food, caffeine-fueled kind of day.
Which sounds sort of fun minus the stabbing pain in my head.

JP and I have been kicking around some life-changing ideas lately...



like potentially selling our house to move to a place that's an easier commute for him - he crosses the Delaware Memorial Bridge each day so enough said there - and has a whole lot of country for my artwork.

Which is how we wound up walking around a farm on Saturday.

Yes, that's right...a farm.  I happened upon it for sale on Realtor.com on Saturday morning and by lunchtime we were traipsing through its acreage while awaiting the real estate agent to arrive to show it.

There were multiple outbuildings that were seemingly made of the stuff I dream about (and create artwork about)...like the most weathered, breathtaking barn wood everywhere.  Like big open sky and big old trees to rest under.

I was in love and probably would have signed on the dotted line right then and there...until we went into the house.

Very unfortunately, the owners had rented it out and let's just say that the renters did not treat the house very well.  I wouldn't say it was trashed but it was significantly gross.  I am easygoing when it comes to houses; I can deal with a lot and can always see potential even when others can't, but I could not get past this house's ick factor.  This was a tragic shame because exteriorly the house was terrific.

Afterward, we went out to lunch and mulled things over.  What if we had a professional company do a clean out?  What if we did this or that?  The answers kept coming up with a lot of no's and so my heart broke a little bit because I was really liking the idea of owning a farm.

But, for real?  Do we really want to buy something that's going to commandeer 95% of our free time at this stage of the game?  Because, let's be honest, if JP and I owned a farm, we would then just have to own a cow...a horse...a couple of goats, etc.  JP would have to indulge his love of tractors so there'd be a bunch of farm equipment to maintain..

The short answer is No, it would be foolish to buy a farm now.  No one in their right mind would advise us otherwise.

Which means nothing to us, of course.

This farm was not the right one for us but if I stumble upon another with a better house in the right area?  Well, who knows what might happen?

 

Andrew Wyeth Exhibition

We spent part of JP's birthday on Friday 8/25 at the Andrew Wyeth Exhibition, Brandywine River Museum of Art in Chadds Ford, PA.

I have no words to express my awe.
To be in the presence of these works was tremendous...so much so that I got a little bit overwhelmed at first upon entering the exhibit.

To say that I adore Andrew Wyeth would be a silly understatement.

Seeing his actual work 3 inches from my face was nothing short of a privilege - like being let into his house and world.

The exhibit included works from all the Wyeths - Jamie, N.C., Carolyn, Henriette + several of N.C.'s proteges.  Amazing.

.

I bought a print of this one - it's one of my most favorites

The infamous Christina of Christina's World

The exhibition runs until September 17th and so if there is any way you can get there by then I implore you to do so.

I spend a lot of time in the Chadds Ford area and any time spent there - if you can arrange it - is time well spent, I promise you.

Scenes from the breathtaking museum itself:

If you go, be sure to walk around the premises and do visit the gift shop where you can purchase prints at very reasonable prices.  I don't think there are very many places at all where Wyeth prints can be gotten.  I bought this one, of course - because of my obsession with everything moon. 18x19, $35.00:

For more information about the exhibit, click ---> Andrew Wyeth: In Retrospect

Clean Your Room

August's Simple Little Giveaway

I need your help growing my reach so from now until the end of the month, every SHARE of any of my images on my Facebook page and new NEWSLETTER SIGN UP will be entered to win this 3.5"x 2.25" double-sided keychain featuring my "HANGING AROUND JOANNE'S HOUSE" piece.

Share 1 of my images = 1 chance to win Share 10 of my images = 10 chances to win, etc...



 

The "Experts" Are Anything But - Please Stop Listening To Them

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Written by me in 2014.  I have since had 5 solo, month-long art shows at The Globe + various other venues.  Please please please read this...and read it again (and again) until its message sinks in, hits home, kicks you in your butt, etc.
________________________________________________________________________________

Yesterday my husband and I installed my final art show/sale of 2014 at The Globe, an historic former theater that is now a very hip and very popular restaurant/bar/art gallery located in Berlin, Maryland.

It's a huge show; 71 pieces of my artwork ranging in size from 24x36 (6 of this size!) down to little tiny 4x4 squares that are part of a 9-pc set of varying sizes ($100 for the set - a bargain!) spread throughout the entire two-level building.

This is my second show/sale there.  I also headlined there last year at this time.  That first show/sale was so successful that they invited me back this year, again at the busiest time of the year when galleries exhibit those who best serve the shopping season.

How successful was last year's show, you ask?  Let's put it this way: I was supposed to be in there from Thanksgiving until New Year's.  I wound up being in there until March.  The longest running show they've ever had.

Am I tooting my own horn?
You bet I am - but not for the reasons you might think.

Well, not totally for the reason you might think.  ;-)


I am tooting my own horn because I want to tell you - in one word - how all of this came about:  postcard.

Yep, one single postcard has given me two amazing opportunities to headline my own solo show at the most prominent art space in a town that was voted 2014's Coolest Small Town In The US by Budget Travel magazine.

All I did was send postcards out to places I thought my art would fit into.  On the back I had printed a message that said something about being available for shows and sales and retail opportunities.  I wrote a couple of lines that just said that I'd love for them to check my work out. That's it.

Ah, sweet naïvete.

You see, the "experts" will tell you to not ever make the very amateur mistake of sending out postcards to galleries and shops.  They will scoff at you for even considering doing this.  No self-respecting artist who wants to be taken seriously would ever do this because all it will lead to is having your postcard tossed directly into the trash without anyone ever so much as glancing at it is what the self-proclaimed art business gurus will tell you.

Well, maybe they're right, if you are the type of high-fallutin' artist who straight out of the gate thinks your art should be featured in a gallery on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan where the cheapest piece sells for thousands of dollars.  Then, no, a postcard probably won't work for you.

But if you're a humble artist who doesn't say "no, it sucks" when people tell you that your artwork is really good or great (I hate people who do this.  Why are you even creating art then?!  It's like people who are a size two but complain about being fat.  Stop, please.) and you should sell it...and if you are a humble artist who needs a break, just one simple break...and if you want to keep your prices reasonable so the average person can actually afford to buy some art...and if you are not a wuss who isn't afraid to just put yourself out there, to take a chance, to throw the dice and see where they land...than YES, those "experts" and "gurus" are wrong.

I mean, come on...by now you should know that if there were some set of rules to follow that would guarantee success, everybody would be following them and riding off into the sunset, right?

Those rules don't exist.
The rule is that there are no rules.

Let me say that again:  THERE ARE NO RULES.

Oh, and while you're thinking about all of this, I beg you to reconsider what your definition of success is if it has anything at all to do with money.  Yes, I am serious.  Very serious.

I can say with complete confidence and truth that I am a wildly successful artist.
My artwork makes people happy and I know this because on almost a daily basis they make it a point to reach out and tell me. 

Something I do brings people happiness.
Tell me what defines success more than that.
There's not a price you can put on that.  And if I make some money along the way, that's just bonus.
I am not saying I don't want to make money - that would be ridiculous.  With my artwork I make money and I also make people happy and I'm telling you that the latter is what makes my soul sing.

It's a motivation thing and in all likelihood what motivates me (with my art and in life) is way left of center, which is usually how it goes with me.

I'll probably never wind up in a gallery on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan sipping wine and nibbling on cheese with the haut monde but that's not where I belong anyway.  Try and know where you belong; that's kind of important.

I'm good where I'm at right now:  meeting people, having fun, and making pretty pictures that make people happy.

And sending out postcards.

Ooh Ooh That (Fake) Smell

Do you know the smell when something is burned beyond recognition on a grill? Like when you're heating up the grill and the old funk on the grates is burning or when you burned the hell out of a frying pan? That is the smell that is stuck in my head right now.

Mind you, I am not really smelling this as I do not have the ability to smell anything.

It's called phantosmia and it's part of being anosmic (loss of smell).

Phantosmia is an an olfactory hallucination, it's smelling an odor that is not actually there.
Most of the time the "smells" associated with phantosmia are not pleasant.
And although the smell is not real, it might as well be because I am nauseous from "smelling" this for the past few hours.
My eyes are even tearing from it.
There's nothing I can do to alleviate it; I can only wait it out.

#Anosmia #LossOfSmell #AnosmiaStinks


 

Withering Where You Are Planted & What To Do About It

I do not like flowery, simplistic sentiments.
They do not inspire me.  I did not wake up this morning ready to dance like no one is watching.

Instead, I woke up this morning in my house which is a great house - I mean, seriously great - that just so happens to be in an area that does absolutely nothing for my soul.

In other words, I do not like where we live*.

A lot of the time, if you are going through something that is weighing on you, it is good to talk it out with people so that they can maybe help your perspective or even commiserate, which is nice because it helps to know that other people have gone through what you're dealing with.
So I did that.
I started talking about my significant depression unhappiness about having a great house in a not great place.  As a rule I almost never talk (writing about them to complete strangers is a different story) about my issues, at least not in depth ...preferring instead to deal with it all myself and to avoid the type of thing that actually happened when I opened up about my great house/bad location situation.

I should have known better.  I actually did know better.  But I talked anyway.