Posted July 23, 2017 by Kerry McFall
#makingALivingAsAnArtist #totality #eclipse #fishArt
The media is abuzz about the potential crowds showing up for the coming total eclipse of the sun. Neighbors are wondering how much food to stock up on before the hordes descend. The library is full of cool books about eclipses – I checked out one called “Mask of the Sun” about the history and forgotten lore of eclipses. I recently wrote about my concerns that eclipse fans need to stay on trails when they’re tramping around here in the woods. And the OSU art gallery, the LaSells Stewart Center, is planning an exhibit in August focused on all things celestial.
I was going to submit my painting (above) for that exhibit, in fact I painted it expressly for that show, painted it on the day before the submission deadline. I wasn’t procrastinating, I just managed to come up with the concept and squeeze in the two hours to create it in the proverbial nick of time. I was wondering how the darkness would affect all of the creatures who would experience it. And what about fish? Would they be aware? What would it look like from their watery viewpoint? What do fish see anyway?
I actually have quite a long history with fish. One of my middle school science projects involved getting up in the middle of the night for a week to see if my goldfish were sleeping. Another project asked the burning question, “Do fish see colors?”. Both projects led me to the conclusion that I was in way over my head for middle school research technology in the 60’s. My kids were curious about fish, too -there was one memorable moment, waiting to attempt a left turn from 9th street onto Circle Blvd. at what passes for Rush Hour in Corvallis, when a small voice from the back seat inquired, “Do fish throw up?” Still don’t have an answer for that one…
And over the years, I’ve made and sold quite a bunch of fish art. Fiber art, digital art, sketches, oil paintings, birdhouses… fish are so very elegant and graceful.
So, I finished my Totality painting after some inconclusive internet research about fish that involved the potential for neon and infrared paint and light. But then… then I saw that it cost $20 to enter a piece (up to 5 pieces actually) to be juried in. And then I realized that I didn’t have a mat and frame to fit the size of my painting, I would have to buy new. So there’s another $40 to $60 for just a basic prep. And then I thought about the gallery commission – it’s usually 40%. And then I reminded myself that I’ve exhibited there many times, and nothing has sold. I’m not being pessimistic, mind you, this is simply experience speaking. Artists often pay – a lot – for the privilege of attempting to sell their work. Just like corporations and governments rarely offer “real” jobs anymore, (they contract out to headhunters and middlemen who take 40 to 65% of what would otherwise be a decent salary), the majority of artists can expect to earn just about enough to buy their next batch of art supplies, if they’re lucky.
So now what? I know ways to market my art. I’ve studied it. I’ve done it before, with some success. But I’m so weary of all that. This is not my year for that much effort. Now I have another unique original to add to my “body of work”. I like it. I had fun doing it. I learned something. It makes me smile. Those are the real reasons I make art. And that’s enough.