Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Friday, May 04, 2012
Art, the business...
I stopped in the gallery in my hometown, little storefront affair on Main Street, and had the temerity to ask the owner how I could get my art on her walls. She looked at me like something that had been stuck to the bottom of her shoe and replied, well, I would need to have a body of work. And when I said I met that requirement, she handed me a sheet of paper. It seems that my work would have to be juried first. Well, I expected that. Then, I would have to pay a non-refundable $600 membership fee. In addition, I would receive a bill every month for my share of the operating loss, if there was one, and be required to work on the floor 2 or 3 days a month. If my work sold, I would receive 75% of the selling price on the 10th of the month following the sale. Let's see now. I work without wages, pay to show my paintings, pay the rent and utilities, and maybe get some of that back 40 days later? I think I will have postcards printed and have a private show in my little yellow house, where I already pay the operating expenses and get a place to live, to boot. Parking is better on my street. Meanwhile, latest work in progress, another huge (for me) painting on terra cotta red sanded paper. Coming up nicely, I think. This is what I like to do, the painting part. The other part, well, that's the rub. Somehow, I need to get my name out there, so I can sell the work, too. Will keep looking. Phantom gallery? Maybe.