A story about my Dad, the artist.

I want to tell you a story. 

When my father died, he left us an entire studio of fantastic abstract landscape oil paintings in his garage.  Over 100 pieces ranging from small to some over six feet. 

He was a painter his entire life and also held a job as an arts administrator for a school system.  When I told him I was going to study Art Education, he said they call it a “Board” of Education for a reason.  Point taken, but I did it anyway.  

His true passion was painting.  He loved nature and he painted it in so many different ways.  His  work was in a few galleries and always won top prizes in juried shows.  There we a few sales, but not that many. 

He only stopped painting when he physically couldn’t do it anymore due to his Parkinson’s. 

By nature, he wasn’t a salesperson.  He was an ARTIST.  A bit reserved, not terribly social, and really loved his alone time in his studio when he could get it.  

I used to love going to visit him there as an adult and amidst the aroma of the oil paints, and try to talk to him (he wasn’t very talkative) about whatever he was working on.  Discussing paint, color, framing, etc. was always an education for me and the best way to bond with him.

We took advantage of all the tools artists have today and uploaded some of his work to Saatchi, created an instagram account for him and I made him a website. 

Learning the technology wasn’t easy for him, and at that point he was retired and okay with the work just being in the garage.  

If my Dad had been in his prime during the times we live in today as artists, I believe he would’ve left us far fewer paintings and had made more sales. 

Believe me, he was happy when he was painting.  And that’s really the best.  But I also know how validating and wonderful it is to have your work SELL.  Especially if that’s what you want to do- make art and share it.   (To be clear, I believe there’s a time and place for making art and NOT sharing it as well.  And I have a whole practice for that which fuels my work.) 

In my own art career, I’ve had to grapple with being visible and feeling good enough.

I’ve had to get comfortable enough to show my works in progress, my final pieces, offer it for sale, ask galleries for representation, apply to shows, get accepted, get rejected, apply for grants, get accepted, get rejected, and continue ON.  This is surely not a sprint, but a marathon.  

And I keep going.  Why?  Because I LOVE it.  I love making art.  I love making sales.  I love teaching.  I love working with artists to help them overcome their insecurities/blocks/bs along the way.  I love watching people turn on their own creative juices. 

If there was one thing I wish my Dad could’ve had, it would be the support of other artists playing the same game.  The coaching, the tools, the place to fall apart and then get back up without doing it ALONE.