“Gleaning Karma at a Museum Show” Part Two
October 21, 2010
The second reason . . .
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He was a pretty big bastard.
The side door of the bar was propped open and you could see the rock retaining wall that stood about 3.5 feet high just outside the door from where I was sitting. This was 1988 in a little neighborhood bar not far from Elmwood Park in Omaha. The place sat underneath a “two chair; one barber” – barbershop. It’s always been a fairly nice place. Mind your own business, drink your beer in short glasses, and don’t bitch – you’ll do just fine there. We had stopped for either a late lunch or an early dinner – I don’t remember. The future Mrs. and I weren’t regulars, but we weren’t strangers either – and we were given one of the better tables. I had completely developed my inability to sit with my back to a crowd by this point in my life. Therefore she had a clear view of beyond the propped open back door and she was not impressed by any means.
Anyway, the big bastard lumbered back in and sat down again with his buds – exhausted.
“Worst damn flu I’ve had in 15 years.” he said to his friends as he wiped his mouth with an old handkerchief, took another pull off his beer, and grabbed an onion ring.
Minutes later he went back out the open door and hurled loudly over the top of the rock wall. I listened to him cough and spit after he lost his groceries yet again. “Bar Manners” prevented me from saying anything to this man or his friends as he came back in and started eating again. First of all, he was my elder and I had no place addressing his behavior in public. Second of all, I was outnumbered and third of all, it was none of my business. My future wife, who had no formal training in any kind of Nebraska blue-collar drinking etiquette – did know enough to not say anything to this person, but she did share with me her feelings on the matter. Pointedly.
I remember listening to her concerns and watching this person – who was whiter than pale and sweating like a harlot in Mass – gobbling a deep-fried chicken breast and pouring another draw from the pitcher of beer he was sharing with his friends.
It was a cathartic moment for me. A catharsis – a sudden realization or recognition that was not there moments before. An epiphany – a quick and accurate insight that was not present earlier.
(A catharsis also refers to the sudden evacuation of one’s bowels in medical circles. I can assure you that is not the appropriate definition here – unless the big bastard had further problems after we departed.)
I’ve probably had 15, maybe 20 sudden realizations in my life. Epiphanies. Ask anyone that knows me and they will tell you I don’t listen very well – and it’s so very true, I really don’t. I’ve been told for many years that if I would just listen, things would go so much better for me. I never believed any of that.
Besides, I just don’t listen.
But I do have these cathartic moments – thanks to the Deity or karma or whatever. God gives these sudden recognition moments to those of us who don’t listen very well – Aristotle, St. Paul, Albert Einstein, and Wile E. Coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons come to mind. The best way to describe it to you, the reader – is to think of the sky opening up with a ray of light shining down from the heavens upon whatever issue or concern as a mulititude of angels all sing “La-a-a-a-a-a” as they point to it. I taught my kids to make that high-pitched angelic “La-a-a-a-a” sound whenever we set a dish of ice cream in front of them when they were little.
It’s a lot like that.
No it’s not.
Actually, it’s not like that at all, but it is the best way to explain it.
So, I am watching the angels sing “La-a–a-a-a” as this poor wretch is lit up with divine light in this little horseracing bar. The message? Simple and effective.
“Don’t be like this dumbass.”
or was it,
“Don’t be like this, dumbass.” ? I don’t remember which.
It didn’t matter – I got the general idea of this epiphany and quickly understood because it wasn’t my first experience. I’ve done the dance before. I’ve had other intuitive, eye-opening episodes before and since – like when I realized I was an artist and not a low-level production manager in a painted furniture studio. There was also my first finger-painting experience in a California kindergarten classroom, when I suddenly had the insight at 5 years old that my hands, the paint, and the paper belonged together. Another one was when I first “got” the DuChampian idea of random chance in compositions while everyone else just stared blankly at the professor. I couldn’t have heard their comments if they had any – too many angels singing “La-a-a-a-a-a”.
Some of these moments I am talking about are not art-related just as the poor guy in the bar with the flu. . . like when I finally understood several weeks after she died that St. Francis is indeed taking care of my dog for me until I get to see her again, or when I realized that all my schooling and fancy book-learning did not prepare me for dealing with manipulative and oh, so shallow and condescending “geniuses”. Some sudden realizations I have had in my life have helped me develop a very, very low threshold and early warning system for door-to-door salespeople, charlatans, blind optimists, and your basic “prima donna” types. It’s a mixed blessing to be sure.
I did have a cathartic experience, an epiphany, at the “museum show” I was at a few weeks ago, but first a little background:
I make and sell only originals. Original paintings. I’ve been pretty adamant about that from when I began several years ago. I was never interested in providing photographs of my work for people. My biggest nightmare is having a patron call me up and tell me how he went to dinner at someone’s house, looked up, and saw his painting on their dining room wall. I’ve always wanted people to understand that no one else owns their painting. As a result, I have done series of paintings rather than “prints”. “Series” work results in similar work, but each is a distinct original. It’s worked well. My clients get original work from me every time. I’ve been able to provide the right painting for the right patron – every time.
Occasionally I get chastised by artists, wannabe’s and morons for not making prints. Doesn’t matter though. I just don’t listen. I really don’t. In fact, my eyes get glassy and I sink into a catatonic state whenever someone comes into my studio and begins any sentence with: “You know what you should do? You should . . . “
ZZZZZZ-zzzz-ZZZZZZZ
Yep, works everytime.
Nonetheless, there is a drawback to only making originals – it is an inventory problem I’ve been having for much of this year. People pay their hard-earned money for my paintings. Remember, each one is an original. But then other people would view my work and return to me at the show and ask for a particular painting that was already sold. Many times this happened. My first response to solve this was to raise the price to meet the demand. But, even if demand were to equal a number that was double my inventory – I knew I could not double my prices to match demand due to the current economic climate and prices at this point in my career. I’ve always preferred slow, sequential growth over “out of control” expansion and the tumor-like consequences skyrocketing prices can bring to an artist. I took special orders and painted the orders during the following week all summer to help accommodate demand. I also spent the weekdays between shows building enough inventory to bring to the next show. Creating and continuing new and established painting series while keeping the work fresh, beautiful, and interesting was proving to be a difficult task this summer. I had resigned myself to believing I had only two choices to solve the inventory issue: raise prices and hold onto the inventory due to decreased sales (not good) or make cheap prints to sell to my valued patrons (double not good). Neither seemed to be a good option for me to consider.
It rained on Saturday afternoon at this “museum show”. I stood under my trusty Trimline and stared glumly across the empty show path. I looked down at my flip bin as I stood in the rain. It had 20 or 25 of my original paintings on watercolor paper in crisp poly bags. Each was an original. Each was an example of a series of different subject matter. They take quite a bit of time to design, prep, paint, finish, and package. The drawback of having 20-something originals on paper in your flip bin as an artist is this: it looks like everything has been picked over – it gives the impression the good ones are gone. Nothing could be farther from the truth, the good ones are still there, but it takes a week of studio time to make 30-35 originals on paper. The flip bin has never been filled all year. As soon as they sell, I go back, make more, and then they sell, and so forth. I knew I was losing sales all summer because the inventory would hit a certain point where patrons would ignore the bin. If I had more to offer, then more people would stop and peruse through the bin leading to increased sales. I could not think of an answer to the problem as I understood it – I could not keep up with demand.
Then the skies parted after raining all day at this particular show and the light from the heavens shined down on the booth across from me and lit it up like the Holy Grail. The symphonic “La-a-a-a-a” being sung by the angels caused me to look over and see my latest cathartic experience – my sudden realization and solution to my inventory woes.
This booth belonged to a very talented and hardworking woodcut printmaker: Kent Ambler.
He’s a rising star from South Carolina. I was very impressed with his work and I do encourage people to go to his website, follow him at the shows, and support his work – beautiful, outstanding woodblock prints. By far the best printmaker I can recall seeing at the art shows – ever.
I always enjoyed printmaking as a student. I did my first linocut when I was a sophomore in high school. I did a few more in college that received good reviews and grades from the professors – but I always considered myself a painter and never really pursued printmaking. My focus always stayed with painting and all the peaks and valleys associated with being a painter. As I said before, many artists face this issue of not having a full inventory to bring to the shows. Most of them solve the issue by offering printouts of photographs or scans of their work. The image is the same, but sadly – in my opinion – it is not an original. Therefore, again, I do not make or offer giclee’s, off-set prints, computer printouts, or photographs of my paintings. Don’t even get me started on painters making giclee’s!
Shielding my eyes from the divine light bathing my neighbor’s booth, I walked over and spoke with Kent about his printing technique and told him about my idea. Kent very graciously explained how I could use linocuts to solve my inventory problem. If I made linoleum plates of my standard series subject matter – my big sellers in the “9×12 originals on paper” genre – then I could use the “white-line” technique to make my own hand-pulled linocuts of my subject matter and then color them with acrylics just as if they were paintings on watercolor paper – which they are!
Each painting will continue to be an original. The design continues to be designed by me. I pull the prints. I finish the process by adding color to each one – making each linocut even more unique. Outside of carving the plate, the amount of time saved and production increased will be measured not only in inventory, but also in improved creativity and increased sales. Better choices for my patrons. This method will definitely solve the inventory problem I had been experiencing and also provide a new line to set out for my collectors and patrons. I was provided with yet another cathartic experience in which to improve my work – all while standing in the rain at a disappointing show across from a very notable printmaker from South Carolina.
There is a reason for everything – even a bad “museum show”.
Buy his work: http://www.kentambler.net
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Epilogue
I’m sitting at my desk in the studio behind the gallery as I write this – I am staring lovingly at my brand new etching press installed on at table in the what is now the “Printmaking Center” of the painting studio. It’s basking in light from heaven and the room is filled with the angelic voices singing “la-a-a-a-a” as I gaze at this beautiful assemblage of steel and unlimited potential. I ran some proofs this week with great results. I will be pulling prints this weekend. Stop by if you are in the ‘hood. I’ve resisted posting photos on this blog for a variety of reasons, but if you would like to see an example or two on a .jpg – send me a note, there’s a submission form at johnstillmunks.com. I would love to hear from you.
Many thanks again to Kent Ambler.
Go to kentambler.net – buy his work!
