Selling Out

Can I tell you how weird it is to sell stuff? Seriously?

Especially for me, to sell art.

I love painting, I love taking pics, I love drawing, but all of that is secondary to writing. This is all stuff I have said, before. I have drawn since I was a very little boy, the genesis of that coming from my mother and father, though my dad hides his artistic interests in wood working and that sort of work. I had wanted to be a cartoonist as a kid but never really had the drive to pursue it past idea.

When I started painting three years ago it was because I had always sorta wanted to try it but had never had the guts. Since the day I began I have always looked at this as learning on the job. I am not worried so much about being great as about being ME in my art. I want it to tell the stories I want to tell, and to reflect the worlds I see in my mind. I have never really thought about selling art and, to be honest, just to give stuff away tears me up. It’s crazy. I think it’s that I am still new to it. I can do work relatively quickly but it still is all part of me. All unique. All children of my soul.

Ah, but, dammit, I gotta eat. And eat I do. HAHA. I have my ideals, and my view on art and commerce and all of that, like we all do but for me, it’s a razor’s edge that is all about what you are comfortable with. I feel like selling my work allows me to do more work, which is a good thing. I am not dumb enough to think that my work is worth tons of money, as I would prefer people that are passionate about it get the stuff. But I do need to make enough to make it worth losing it. ‘Cause I love the stuff, dammit. Even if no one else does.

So yesterday I sold two paintings at the Cool City Art Auction in Flint, MI. The auction itself is over priced and overblown and reminded me why I wanted to help put together indie art shows and why art can annoy me so much, but there was a lot of beautiful work out there. My girlfriend and I had checked out where our stuff was – my three paintings and her three photos – and saw no bids. Fail. Though there weren’t many bids on things at all. We moved from there to the other three venues and checked out the rest of the auction. As I said, a lot of great art, but a lot of blown up stuff that, to me, isn’t worth half of what people want. It made me happy not to have an art degree, but then I am a dick, so what do I know. When we went back to the venue for our stuff we saw that there were bids. Freakin’ BIDS! I figured, assumed, that a friend had bid on the paintings as it was the same number for both but, to my shock, it was a gentleman I’d never met before. Crazy.

So today I feel as I did yesterday, and that is elated to be validated in those two pieces, but sad at their loss. I fucking loved those things. They were faves of mine, for sure. But, it is what it is. And I guess a lot of artists have a lot of their lesser works  hanging around in their places and their friend’s places, and, if they are lucky, have some rad as hell pieces on the walls of admirers.

And if they are very lucky, paying admirers.

c

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