The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Profiteer... or Not written @ 8:39 PM on July 24, 2004 So here's an entry to let you all know that I am surviving my ordeal with the gallery. Yes, "ordeal" is an accurate word, I suppose. Last weekend I scrambled to get all my framing supplies, mat board, and stepped up the hours spent on getting a couple of pieces done in time for the show. The art gods must have heard my pleas for help, because frames were on sale at the art stores in the area. AND!! I managed to buy a fantastic mat board machine! I pulled money out of my savings account to pay for it, and my matting jobs look stupendous. I mean, I hate matting but this makes my artwork look professionally finished. The Logan Mat Cutter Board Intermediate 450 is worth every penny. God bless Logan and the engineer who came up with this machine. I should have bought one sooner... like back in high school. Then, instead of buying real glass because that would have been expensive, I bought sheets of plexiglass and taught myself how to cut it. I assembled my gallery frames, backed 'em, wired 'em-- and boom. In a couple of days, working at my easy pace, I managed to mat and frame 20 pieces of artwork. Boo-yah. Dad is getting my business cards printed, I have my bio submitted, invitations have gone out, I'm taking slides of my work, bought some purchase/receipt pads, et cetera, et cetera. I think I am ready. Only I think I don't want to sell anything. I came to this conclusion last weekend whilst swimming through a sea of mat board, foam board, glass, and steel frames. I don't really want to sell anything! Never thought you'd hear an artist say that, eh? I bet you want to know why. My answer is very fundamental: I just made this art; I kind of want to look at it for a while before someone pays me for it, strips the frame for something else that matches their couch, and hangs it in a poorly lit room. You know? In all honesty, I don't expect to sell anything. I want to do this just for the experience, to say that I've done it before I've gone completely pro. On the other hand, this show has certainly left a dent financially. If I sell just one piece, it would make up for everything I spent on supplies. If I sell two pieces, that can go toward my college textbooks and art supplies for the next two semesters. You can best bet that I am a VIP customer at Home Depot and every art store in the tri-state. As of right now, I have two more wood frames to stain, polish, and attach to their designated paintings. I am sliding to the finish. I have a few more things left to do. I am relieved to be almost done. Exhausted, too. But I think this is going to be great. Tomorrow I'm going to the gallery to stake out space. On Tuesday and Wednesday, the other artists and I begin to hang. Thursday is showtime. *** Another good thing: Monday is my last day at work for the summer. Thank God. My job this summer managed to stress me out 176% more than it did last summer. They're going to want me to work again next year, I know it. Well, I'm only going to do it under at least one of the following options: 1) they pay me more money; 2) they hire me out as scenic designer only; or 3) they get someone else to either paint or do props design, 'cause I can't handle both anymore. It's become what I call "assembly line theatre," where they don't care about the product as long as they're making the profit. "They," being the management. I simply won't do that. While theatre is a business just like any other, I won't work in an environment where the management forces me to compromise the quality of my work for profiteering. Before I become a businesswoman, I am an artist. And that's a policy I am going to stick with through all my days in theatre, even if I starve. You have to respect the art before you can turn a dollar. And when they hand me my contract next summer, I will tell them that. As an educational institution, they should know better. End rant. *** A third good thing: I go on vacation to Myrtle Beach next weekend. Hurrah! I need a break so badly. I am going to be content to sit on the beach, people- and bird-watching, cruising the waves in 80-degree ocean water, walking the hot dunes, and experiencing commercialized beach tourism at its most ruthless... I mean best. O Beach of Myrtle, o Kingdom of Miniature Golf, here we come. *sigh* You know. Once upon a time, when life was Baskin Robbins bubblegum ice cream and rainbows, Mom and Dad were going to retire to Myrtle Beach, where Mom would have her ocean and Dad would have his leagues of golf courses. I always pictured them in a nice beach shack with tiger lilies in the front yard, myrtles around the side, a gravel driveway, storm-shuttered windows, and a sun-baked deck. I imagined them finding a place of rest there after a lifetime of working for The Man, especially my dad. I don't see that in the forecast anymore, though. Dad has forgotten that dream, and, just as Grandma said, he'll probably stay in Ohio up to his dying day, while Mom either moves back to the northeast or decides to head for warmer climates. I want to make enough money that I can take care of them both, let them live where they'll be happy. I guess I have to sell my art... and maybe even profiteer to make that happen. Hmm. I don't think capitalism works as great as the government would like us to think.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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