.
Wow! What a great day! Constant traffic, lookers, complimenters, buyers! Visits by Becky and Karan (and Matthew and Bob and Jim). The weather was perfect, and I sold more than at any other sale so far.
This morning (two days later) two emails have come in from people who saw my work on Saturday, one with praise for my website, another wanting to know how to buy some prints.
Without rambling on and on, I just need to say how thrilling it is to feel so successful at this passion I had put aside so many years ago.
Adding to my happiness is the fact that my "Beauties and the Beast" pic was used by the Arts Council in both the newspaper press release and their emailed newsletter. Thank you, Hilary!
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Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Matting, Matting, Matting...!
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Two days until the Remington Festival Sale in Canton's village park. Will Adorama deliver in time? Will I be ready? Will the weather cooperate? Will my hurting back let me stand all day?
I do enjoy matting. It's so rewarding to see a handsome, printed photo well presented - and know that I did all of this. I listen to good music as I work, and have been known to do the Snoopy Dance while grinning and saying, "I really am an artist!!!!" This feels so good.
.
Two days until the Remington Festival Sale in Canton's village park. Will Adorama deliver in time? Will I be ready? Will the weather cooperate? Will my hurting back let me stand all day?
I do enjoy matting. It's so rewarding to see a handsome, printed photo well presented - and know that I did all of this. I listen to good music as I work, and have been known to do the Snoopy Dance while grinning and saying, "I really am an artist!!!!" This feels so good.
.
September 2009
.
This is my time at First Crush, and I hung my stuff promptly on the first of the month. The newly purchased frames worked out well and made the job a lot easier. I also think the photos look better larger.
After considering hanging an "all abstract" or "all animal" show, I ended up doing another "range of what I do" exhibit with an attempt to have something for everyone. It leaned a little bit toward fall subjects, though. Included were three square shots: Barnstorming, Beauties and the Beast and the bumblebee on a sunflower; a flag "amoeba"; Harley Davidson macro; lime green maple leaves with red stems; View Toward Dannemora; Jersey Calves; and darned if I can remember what else because I did so much deliberating and changing the choices in the weeks previous.
Becky and I had lunch there a couple of days later. She's not feeling well, and was perhaps a bit quieter than usual, which opened the door for me to blather on and on. She says she wants to buy the ducks on the pond picture taken on my way home from Gallery 812. I think I should sing, "You are the wind beneath my wings," but her illness and that thought are much too sobering.
And here I am writing this near the end of that show. September has flown by.
.
This is my time at First Crush, and I hung my stuff promptly on the first of the month. The newly purchased frames worked out well and made the job a lot easier. I also think the photos look better larger.
After considering hanging an "all abstract" or "all animal" show, I ended up doing another "range of what I do" exhibit with an attempt to have something for everyone. It leaned a little bit toward fall subjects, though. Included were three square shots: Barnstorming, Beauties and the Beast and the bumblebee on a sunflower; a flag "amoeba"; Harley Davidson macro; lime green maple leaves with red stems; View Toward Dannemora; Jersey Calves; and darned if I can remember what else because I did so much deliberating and changing the choices in the weeks previous.
Becky and I had lunch there a couple of days later. She's not feeling well, and was perhaps a bit quieter than usual, which opened the door for me to blather on and on. She says she wants to buy the ducks on the pond picture taken on my way home from Gallery 812. I think I should sing, "You are the wind beneath my wings," but her illness and that thought are much too sobering.
And here I am writing this near the end of that show. September has flown by.
.
Monday, August 17, 2009
A Trip to Lowville
.
I finally got my act together for the trip to Gallery 812: a good selection of "seasonal" matted prints, and some more cards. And of course I needed a sunny day for combining delivery with shooting whatever might be found along the way.
Casandra was there and delighted with the things I brought, and in addition to retrieving things that are out of season, I picked up a check for three sales. We had a long visit, sharing both art and personal stories, during which I gained an even stronger liking for her. It was mid-afternoon before I hit the road from Lowville through Croghan toward Harrisville and home. There are probably more pictures to be taken in Lowville itself, but I only snapped another window (in an expanse of rusted metal siding) for the windows collection and a couple of long views from the edge of town, then headed northeast.
Croghan offered the odd concrete sculptures of a woman who is probably dead and gone by now. They are considerably decayed, but I photographed a few of them. Those pictures aren't really worth keeping. Some miles later I stopped to shoot the church-turned-general store in Indian River.
Shooting in unfamiliar places involves following my nose, or maybe my eyes. An interesting road name, i.e. something containing the word Falls or Mills, might lead to a photo op. Small communities may also contain oddities or something worth pointing the camera at. Several detours/ramblings yielded nothing, then I turned right onto Jerden Falls Road. Some twists and turns, and then I took Kimball's Mills Road - dirt - going deep into the woods somewhere between the hamlet of Indian River and the village of Harrisville. Five o'clock light was golden but darkening, especially in the woods.
I crossed a 3-ton bridge over a lovely small river, probably a branch of the Indian River, took a good look, but didn't see any photos there. Apparently it has fish in it, as there were several turn-offs to "public access" sites. Maybe the public doesn't know about them, for the two I turned into petered out, or at least were impossible to drive very far into, and I wasn't up for hiking an unknown area in the middle of Nowhere late in the day. Oh well. Continuing on, I spied a rushing brook and pounced on my brakes. It was pretty dark because of the thick woods, but using the things I'd learned from Steve and Vici, I was able to get some pretty good shots. There was also a faery ring, but it was too large and in a dark place. As I returned to the car, an old pick-up truck stopped. The two guys in it were a lot older than the truck, bearded and suspendered, looking like they'd dropped in from about 100 years ago. They'd figured my car must have broken down, and offered help.
Then it was Garmin time. "Take me home, Greta!" And she did. There had been times when the car on her screen had no pink road under it, but now she cheerfully said, "In 1.2 miles, turn left!" Another five or six miles, and we were back on Rte. 812, headed for Harrisville.
There would be one more one more photo. I saw it, passed it, and a mile down the road slammed on the brakes and did a U-turn. White geese floated on a pond reflecting sky, barn and house, and although the dog in residence barked deep threatening woofs at me, it was worthwhile.
.
All in all, it was a lovely and enjoyable day.
.
.
I finally got my act together for the trip to Gallery 812: a good selection of "seasonal" matted prints, and some more cards. And of course I needed a sunny day for combining delivery with shooting whatever might be found along the way.
Casandra was there and delighted with the things I brought, and in addition to retrieving things that are out of season, I picked up a check for three sales. We had a long visit, sharing both art and personal stories, during which I gained an even stronger liking for her. It was mid-afternoon before I hit the road from Lowville through Croghan toward Harrisville and home. There are probably more pictures to be taken in Lowville itself, but I only snapped another window (in an expanse of rusted metal siding) for the windows collection and a couple of long views from the edge of town, then headed northeast.
Croghan offered the odd concrete sculptures of a woman who is probably dead and gone by now. They are considerably decayed, but I photographed a few of them. Those pictures aren't really worth keeping. Some miles later I stopped to shoot the church-turned-general store in Indian River.
Shooting in unfamiliar places involves following my nose, or maybe my eyes. An interesting road name, i.e. something containing the word Falls or Mills, might lead to a photo op. Small communities may also contain oddities or something worth pointing the camera at. Several detours/ramblings yielded nothing, then I turned right onto Jerden Falls Road. Some twists and turns, and then I took Kimball's Mills Road - dirt - going deep into the woods somewhere between the hamlet of Indian River and the village of Harrisville. Five o'clock light was golden but darkening, especially in the woods.
I crossed a 3-ton bridge over a lovely small river, probably a branch of the Indian River, took a good look, but didn't see any photos there. Apparently it has fish in it, as there were several turn-offs to "public access" sites. Maybe the public doesn't know about them, for the two I turned into petered out, or at least were impossible to drive very far into, and I wasn't up for hiking an unknown area in the middle of Nowhere late in the day. Oh well. Continuing on, I spied a rushing brook and pounced on my brakes. It was pretty dark because of the thick woods, but using the things I'd learned from Steve and Vici, I was able to get some pretty good shots. There was also a faery ring, but it was too large and in a dark place. As I returned to the car, an old pick-up truck stopped. The two guys in it were a lot older than the truck, bearded and suspendered, looking like they'd dropped in from about 100 years ago. They'd figured my car must have broken down, and offered help.
Then it was Garmin time. "Take me home, Greta!" And she did. There had been times when the car on her screen had no pink road under it, but now she cheerfully said, "In 1.2 miles, turn left!" Another five or six miles, and we were back on Rte. 812, headed for Harrisville.
There would be one more one more photo. I saw it, passed it, and a mile down the road slammed on the brakes and did a U-turn. White geese floated on a pond reflecting sky, barn and house, and although the dog in residence barked deep threatening woofs at me, it was worthwhile.
.
All in all, it was a lovely and enjoyable day.
.
.
Monday, July 13, 2009
How I Became a Photographer (part I)
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I drew horses from the time I could hold a crayon. I also ate, drank and slept horses. I even wrote my first horse a poem:
My best friend and means of travel
Over the grass and over the gravel
... (the middle of it escapes me)
And I'll always remember fondly
How she nickered in the dawn.
Her name was Lady, and I was seven.
Although my poetry went unheralded, my first-grade teacher asked my parents if they would be willing to enroll me in a Saturday class for talented children at the city Art Museum. Believing that outdoor play was a lot more important to a child than art lessons, my parents refused. The other child this teacher recommended for the museum's classes took them and eventually went on to become a very successful artist who did some work for National Geographic magazine.
Performing arts were my forte as I got older: dancing (I was awful, but I loved it), singing, acting, directing, writing skits and revues; those were the things I lived for. It is no doubt an ego screaming, "LOOK AT ME!! LISTEN TO ME!!", insatiably craving attention, but it feels like an intense longing to communicate something, be it a meaningfully important message or simply a good laugh.
My Zodiac sign is Gemini, the twins, but it seems that my twins are also schizophrenic, because there are at least four different people running around in my head and body. That's probably why my college career was so checkered.
I started out at Alfred University intending to become a geologist, but got K-O'd by mononucleosis and pneumonia midway through the second semester. The illness, besides laying me flat, left at least one odd imprint on my brain.
Music, so important to me, played in my head. It was like having an internal radio I couldn't turn off. On the bright side, it was music I loved: I was a folk singer, and Bob Dylan or Joan Baez or Peter, Paul & Mary were what the brain played. That internal radio has never gone away. The singers and musicians change, but I still spend sleepless nights hearing them.
It was at least five months before I regained most of my health. During that time, the music pulled me toward New York City, the place every folk artist was or wanted to be. I never returned to Alfred or to geology. I enrolled at Wagner College to study to become a social worker.
A year later I would be sailing on The Queen Elizabeth en route to Bregenz, Austria. So long, New York Town. At the end of that school year, having lived on the edge of the Alps, I quit school altogether. It seemed to me that being a social worker would mean living in a city, and cities had completely lost their allure.
To be continued...
.
.
.
I drew horses from the time I could hold a crayon. I also ate, drank and slept horses. I even wrote my first horse a poem:
My best friend and means of travel
Over the grass and over the gravel
... (the middle of it escapes me)
And I'll always remember fondly
How she nickered in the dawn.
Her name was Lady, and I was seven.
Although my poetry went unheralded, my first-grade teacher asked my parents if they would be willing to enroll me in a Saturday class for talented children at the city Art Museum. Believing that outdoor play was a lot more important to a child than art lessons, my parents refused. The other child this teacher recommended for the museum's classes took them and eventually went on to become a very successful artist who did some work for National Geographic magazine.
Performing arts were my forte as I got older: dancing (I was awful, but I loved it), singing, acting, directing, writing skits and revues; those were the things I lived for. It is no doubt an ego screaming, "LOOK AT ME!! LISTEN TO ME!!", insatiably craving attention, but it feels like an intense longing to communicate something, be it a meaningfully important message or simply a good laugh.
My Zodiac sign is Gemini, the twins, but it seems that my twins are also schizophrenic, because there are at least four different people running around in my head and body. That's probably why my college career was so checkered.
I started out at Alfred University intending to become a geologist, but got K-O'd by mononucleosis and pneumonia midway through the second semester. The illness, besides laying me flat, left at least one odd imprint on my brain.
Music, so important to me, played in my head. It was like having an internal radio I couldn't turn off. On the bright side, it was music I loved: I was a folk singer, and Bob Dylan or Joan Baez or Peter, Paul & Mary were what the brain played. That internal radio has never gone away. The singers and musicians change, but I still spend sleepless nights hearing them.
It was at least five months before I regained most of my health. During that time, the music pulled me toward New York City, the place every folk artist was or wanted to be. I never returned to Alfred or to geology. I enrolled at Wagner College to study to become a social worker.
A year later I would be sailing on The Queen Elizabeth en route to Bregenz, Austria. So long, New York Town. At the end of that school year, having lived on the edge of the Alps, I quit school altogether. It seemed to me that being a social worker would mean living in a city, and cities had completely lost their allure.
To be continued...
.
.
.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Dilemma...
.
Almost every digital photo you see has been "Photoshopped" to some extent. I do it. We all do it. That isn't to say that I need to greatly alter my photos. There is no substitute for a technically good shot, and I do strive for that.
The basic alteration is cropping, something photographers did long before there was digital. I have a pretty good eye for composition through the lens, so my cropping is often done only for the purpose of making 5x7 or 8x10 versions of the 8x12s that are my camera's shooting ratio. Using the right lens cuts down on the need to crop and then enlarge the cropped area.
One thing I have to do a lot of is "trash removal", the careful covering up of little ugly things or distractions that seem to be everywhere you point the camera: that McDonald's wrapper or stray beer bottle messing up an otherwise natural view. And wires... how I hate wires...
There is something I do occasionally that is causing me some pangs of guilt or anxiety. Now and then I'll take a photo of something or some place that would be a great picture if the sky wasn't so dull or the background was more interesting... My choice is then to fix the problem, or trash the photo. (By the way, I love it when people say, as if they know, "Oh, just Photoshop it out!" or "Just switch the heads!") These people are apparently trying to sound tech-savvy, and few of them have any idea what there is to doing such editing.
Anyway, here's the dilemma. I have sold two prints that are combinations of photos I took in different places at different times. Many people exclaim over how striking this image is, some look closely and comment that I must have "photoshopped" it, and I tell them yes, I did. The two people who purchased it, however, were exclaiming about how amazing it is... and I just smiled and said something like, yes, isn't the sky incredible... Oh the guilt!!! Should I have 'fessed up? Would telling them it is "art" and not pure photography have caused them to put their money away and move on? And what happens when they hang this print and someone points out the truth?
Maybe the answer is to post a description of my work that mentions the occasional use of photo editing/combining to create art. I do always offer to answer any questions shoppers have, but the problem with those two sales is that the buyers didn't ask. One thing is for sure: this little version of the don't ask - don't tell game is making me feel guilty!
.
Almost every digital photo you see has been "Photoshopped" to some extent. I do it. We all do it. That isn't to say that I need to greatly alter my photos. There is no substitute for a technically good shot, and I do strive for that.
The basic alteration is cropping, something photographers did long before there was digital. I have a pretty good eye for composition through the lens, so my cropping is often done only for the purpose of making 5x7 or 8x10 versions of the 8x12s that are my camera's shooting ratio. Using the right lens cuts down on the need to crop and then enlarge the cropped area.
One thing I have to do a lot of is "trash removal", the careful covering up of little ugly things or distractions that seem to be everywhere you point the camera: that McDonald's wrapper or stray beer bottle messing up an otherwise natural view. And wires... how I hate wires...
There is something I do occasionally that is causing me some pangs of guilt or anxiety. Now and then I'll take a photo of something or some place that would be a great picture if the sky wasn't so dull or the background was more interesting... My choice is then to fix the problem, or trash the photo. (By the way, I love it when people say, as if they know, "Oh, just Photoshop it out!" or "Just switch the heads!") These people are apparently trying to sound tech-savvy, and few of them have any idea what there is to doing such editing.
Anyway, here's the dilemma. I have sold two prints that are combinations of photos I took in different places at different times. Many people exclaim over how striking this image is, some look closely and comment that I must have "photoshopped" it, and I tell them yes, I did. The two people who purchased it, however, were exclaiming about how amazing it is... and I just smiled and said something like, yes, isn't the sky incredible... Oh the guilt!!! Should I have 'fessed up? Would telling them it is "art" and not pure photography have caused them to put their money away and move on? And what happens when they hang this print and someone points out the truth?
Maybe the answer is to post a description of my work that mentions the occasional use of photo editing/combining to create art. I do always offer to answer any questions shoppers have, but the problem with those two sales is that the buyers didn't ask. One thing is for sure: this little version of the don't ask - don't tell game is making me feel guilty!
.
Potsdam Summer Festival Sale
.
In short: another good day.
The car had been packed in advance, so it was just a matter of getting up early and high-tailing it to Potsdam's Ive's Park in time to select a good spot. A good spot, in my opinion, was one facing east - away from the prevailing wind and promised storms, not near any big lightning-attracting trees - and at 7AM I was able to choose exactly the right place. The sun was shining, but it was very windy for so early in the day.
Following Karan's lead, I covered my E-Z-Up with a 25 x 20 sheet of 4 mil plastic, clamping it to the canvas before raising the structure. With the strong wind, I struggled and wondered if this was worth doing. People were beginning to stroll past before I had everything together and all my photos displayed. I never even got that cup of coffee my groggy head was longing for!
I sold a couple of cards before the rain started and a couple of prints as the sky began to open up. By noon it was raining hard. Despite the weather, shoppers came in a fairly steady stream, many happy to take short refuge in my dry tent. Exhibitors began to flee the weather, but I had no reason to. Around 3 PM, thunder and lightning livened things up, and I was still dry and comfortable. A lovely young girl came along and pored over my prints, finally asking if I had anything less expensive: would I sell just a print without the matting, maybe? She said she just didn't have much money at the present time, and I asked if she was a student. Yes, just starting her masters at Clarkson, planning to go into biological research. "Which photo do you like?" I asked, and she mentioned several, commenting that her father is a photographer and she would love to show him many of mine. At that point, having had a good day (and taking a liking to this girl whose name was Laura), I said I would like to give her any one she would like. She selected "Size Matters" because she had helped her father in his research on bees and had come to appreciate the minute variations between species and between the sexes of each species. Laura laughed and commented, "I really appreciate fine detail!" We parted with her saying that when she does have money, she will come and buy another photo. This was a very nice way to end the day.
After that, at around 3:30, the wind began to blow hard enough that I decided it was time to quit. With the help of another exhibitor, I packed up. The rain and wind calmed down, and everything was put in the car dry and clean.
The good news is that despite the rain, I sold well. "Barnstorming" sold again, both of the flag "amoeba" photos, a framed print of "Clouds and Cars", and the Jersey calves. "Moss Lake Morning" was purchased by a gentleman from Wisconsin. People also bought cards, some by the handful. At the Mare's Wares festival, the cards I sold - with only one exception - were those with text on them. In Potsdam, people seemed to prefer the text-less cards.
This has been a very gratifying week. Both sales were quite profitable, and feedback in general has been wonderful. Today one woman asked for my card to give to her sister who owns a shop in Speculator; two other people suggested that I contact the gallery in Clayton. Best of all, there was praise of the thing I take pride in: technically excellent photos. One man came in hoping to buy a photo he'd seen last year, saying, "For a whole year I've been sorry I didn't buy that one!"
I know I'll hit another low point sooner or later, but for now I feel very good about what I'm doing.
.
.
In short: another good day.
The car had been packed in advance, so it was just a matter of getting up early and high-tailing it to Potsdam's Ive's Park in time to select a good spot. A good spot, in my opinion, was one facing east - away from the prevailing wind and promised storms, not near any big lightning-attracting trees - and at 7AM I was able to choose exactly the right place. The sun was shining, but it was very windy for so early in the day.
Following Karan's lead, I covered my E-Z-Up with a 25 x 20 sheet of 4 mil plastic, clamping it to the canvas before raising the structure. With the strong wind, I struggled and wondered if this was worth doing. People were beginning to stroll past before I had everything together and all my photos displayed. I never even got that cup of coffee my groggy head was longing for!
I sold a couple of cards before the rain started and a couple of prints as the sky began to open up. By noon it was raining hard. Despite the weather, shoppers came in a fairly steady stream, many happy to take short refuge in my dry tent. Exhibitors began to flee the weather, but I had no reason to. Around 3 PM, thunder and lightning livened things up, and I was still dry and comfortable. A lovely young girl came along and pored over my prints, finally asking if I had anything less expensive: would I sell just a print without the matting, maybe? She said she just didn't have much money at the present time, and I asked if she was a student. Yes, just starting her masters at Clarkson, planning to go into biological research. "Which photo do you like?" I asked, and she mentioned several, commenting that her father is a photographer and she would love to show him many of mine. At that point, having had a good day (and taking a liking to this girl whose name was Laura), I said I would like to give her any one she would like. She selected "Size Matters" because she had helped her father in his research on bees and had come to appreciate the minute variations between species and between the sexes of each species. Laura laughed and commented, "I really appreciate fine detail!" We parted with her saying that when she does have money, she will come and buy another photo. This was a very nice way to end the day.
After that, at around 3:30, the wind began to blow hard enough that I decided it was time to quit. With the help of another exhibitor, I packed up. The rain and wind calmed down, and everything was put in the car dry and clean.
The good news is that despite the rain, I sold well. "Barnstorming" sold again, both of the flag "amoeba" photos, a framed print of "Clouds and Cars", and the Jersey calves. "Moss Lake Morning" was purchased by a gentleman from Wisconsin. People also bought cards, some by the handful. At the Mare's Wares festival, the cards I sold - with only one exception - were those with text on them. In Potsdam, people seemed to prefer the text-less cards.
This has been a very gratifying week. Both sales were quite profitable, and feedback in general has been wonderful. Today one woman asked for my card to give to her sister who owns a shop in Speculator; two other people suggested that I contact the gallery in Clayton. Best of all, there was praise of the thing I take pride in: technically excellent photos. One man came in hoping to buy a photo he'd seen last year, saying, "For a whole year I've been sorry I didn't buy that one!"
I know I'll hit another low point sooner or later, but for now I feel very good about what I'm doing.
.
.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Karan
.
One of the nicest consequences of becoming a blogger some three years ago was that I "crossed paths" with another blogger, a local jewelry artisan who happened to spot my link in North Country Now's listing of area blogs. Karan, of The Wild Inside, reached out a friendly hand.
As is often the case around here, it turned out we had been introduced some months earlier at a function at "The Fred" (her affectionate name for The Frederic Remington Art Museum in Ogdensburg). We blogged back and forth for awhile, I must have shown her my website and I think she saw a couple of photos that were hung in one of The Remington's "Amatuers Only" juried exhibitions, and eventually we met again at The Fred. In what I have come to know as her usual generosity of spirit and encouragement, Karan asked me if I would ever consider putting my work in a gallery.
Are you kidding? Me? My photos in a GALLERY? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!!! (Did she really think they were that good? Would anyone else? Would a gallery really like them???) I was at once excited, astounded, scared, and almost not believing what she was saying.
Eventually we managed to find a time we could both travel down to Lowville to Gallery 812, one of many places Karan's jewelry is offered. The shop is owned by a watercolor artist named Casandra, with some staffing done by other local artists and artisans, and everything offered is high-class. I was nervous about even showing her my stuff, but when she looked at the bunch of matted prints I brought, she wanted them!
Now and then, pieces sold, and that was the beginning of my believing that what I had thought I was good at and could do some forty years ago - but never pursued - was right and true.
But Karan wasn't through with me yet. She invited me to participate in an art sale at Mare's Wares. It was the first-ever Canada Day extravaganza hosted by Mare and offering work of the Seaway Artisans. I would be a guest artist. Karan told them I was good. Again, this was a sale of first-rate stuff; no crafts or junk. I bought an Easy-up, a folding table and five gridwall display units; Karan had me tie it to hers because she has concrete weights to hold us down in case of wind. I was proud to be a part of the day and figured it would be amazing if I sold anything because the other art was so good... but I did sell some things!
Next she said, "How about the Zonta sale?" And, "Get to the Potsdam Summer Fest sale early and let's set up together." She is a friend and cheerleader second to none.
The sorry part of this otherwise wonderful relationship is how lop-sided it is: Karan has done so much for me, but I do nothing for her. To me she is the equivalent of a Broadway production "angel", giving and giving. I am the understudy. How lucky I am to have met her, how wonderful she is, and how much she has given me and enriched my life.
Karan, I can never thank you enough.
.
One of the nicest consequences of becoming a blogger some three years ago was that I "crossed paths" with another blogger, a local jewelry artisan who happened to spot my link in North Country Now's listing of area blogs. Karan, of The Wild Inside, reached out a friendly hand.
As is often the case around here, it turned out we had been introduced some months earlier at a function at "The Fred" (her affectionate name for The Frederic Remington Art Museum in Ogdensburg). We blogged back and forth for awhile, I must have shown her my website and I think she saw a couple of photos that were hung in one of The Remington's "Amatuers Only" juried exhibitions, and eventually we met again at The Fred. In what I have come to know as her usual generosity of spirit and encouragement, Karan asked me if I would ever consider putting my work in a gallery.
Are you kidding? Me? My photos in a GALLERY? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!!! (Did she really think they were that good? Would anyone else? Would a gallery really like them???) I was at once excited, astounded, scared, and almost not believing what she was saying.
Eventually we managed to find a time we could both travel down to Lowville to Gallery 812, one of many places Karan's jewelry is offered. The shop is owned by a watercolor artist named Casandra, with some staffing done by other local artists and artisans, and everything offered is high-class. I was nervous about even showing her my stuff, but when she looked at the bunch of matted prints I brought, she wanted them!
Now and then, pieces sold, and that was the beginning of my believing that what I had thought I was good at and could do some forty years ago - but never pursued - was right and true.
But Karan wasn't through with me yet. She invited me to participate in an art sale at Mare's Wares. It was the first-ever Canada Day extravaganza hosted by Mare and offering work of the Seaway Artisans. I would be a guest artist. Karan told them I was good. Again, this was a sale of first-rate stuff; no crafts or junk. I bought an Easy-up, a folding table and five gridwall display units; Karan had me tie it to hers because she has concrete weights to hold us down in case of wind. I was proud to be a part of the day and figured it would be amazing if I sold anything because the other art was so good... but I did sell some things!
Next she said, "How about the Zonta sale?" And, "Get to the Potsdam Summer Fest sale early and let's set up together." She is a friend and cheerleader second to none.
The sorry part of this otherwise wonderful relationship is how lop-sided it is: Karan has done so much for me, but I do nothing for her. To me she is the equivalent of a Broadway production "angel", giving and giving. I am the understudy. How lucky I am to have met her, how wonderful she is, and how much she has given me and enriched my life.
Karan, I can never thank you enough.
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Friday, July 3, 2009
To-Do List for July
Stuff I need to do (not in order of urgency):
1. Some summer/fall prints to Gallery 812
2. Ten prints to Mare
3. Check on stuff at Canton Gallery
4. Some summer/fall prints to Picken's
5. Order prints for Potsdam Summer Fest: Harry & Jane, Google, Spider Rainbow, Barnstorming, Milkweed II, Mill Stream, Down with Adults, CARDS?
6. Cut some 16 x 16 mats
I know I'll think of more, but those are the pressing ones.
Potsdam Summer Festival
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Yikes! Only a week until the Potsdam Summer Festival sale. Lots to do: prints to order (to replace those sold yesterday), and then the matting.
Getting a print order together is always a chore because of the various configurations of my photos. For example, you have to be very careful not to order an 8 x 12 of a photo file that was cropped for 5 x 7 or 8 x 10. Prints to be matted need white borders; prints for cards should be borderless. I'm organizationally challenged, and mistakes in an order can be costly.
I dodged a bullet yesterday. My Easy-up still needs to be waterproofed. I have certainly been lucky to avoid rainy days so far, but sooner or later (and very possibly next week), it will pour during an art sale. I've got plastic sheeting, but it would make sense to give a good coat of water-repellant to the canopy before next Saturday, keeping in mind that it will take a couple of days for the treatment to dry.
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Yikes! Only a week until the Potsdam Summer Festival sale. Lots to do: prints to order (to replace those sold yesterday), and then the matting.
Getting a print order together is always a chore because of the various configurations of my photos. For example, you have to be very careful not to order an 8 x 12 of a photo file that was cropped for 5 x 7 or 8 x 10. Prints to be matted need white borders; prints for cards should be borderless. I'm organizationally challenged, and mistakes in an order can be costly.
I dodged a bullet yesterday. My Easy-up still needs to be waterproofed. I have certainly been lucky to avoid rainy days so far, but sooner or later (and very possibly next week), it will pour during an art sale. I've got plastic sheeting, but it would make sense to give a good coat of water-repellant to the canopy before next Saturday, keeping in mind that it will take a couple of days for the treatment to dry.
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Thursday, July 2, 2009
Mare's Wares
Yesterday was Canada Day - formerly called "Dominion Day" - my northerly neighbor's answer to July 4th, I suppose. Canada is near and dear to my heart. It's where half of my ancestors went to live after being kicked out of the newly formed U S of A by the tax-evading, yahoo ingrates who used the Revolution as a good excuse to grab their farms. But I digress.
Canada Day in my neck of the woods is the excuse for a group of artisans and artists to throw a big sale of our creations at the studio/home of a potter named Mare. Mare's Wares is ideally located on the U.S. side of the St. Lawrence River, between two border-spanning bridges. There's lots of space for the growing number of "Easy-up" shelters most of us use, and several large tents cover food offerings and a bandstand. Mare is about the nicest person you'd ever want to meet, and she throws all of her energy into making this day a success. Other members of Seaway Valley Artisans also contribute in various ways to make the event happen.
The weather forecast couldn't have been much worse: between 60 and 90% chance of rain, thundershowers, high winds and hail, (varying hour by hour). Anyone who has ever had the experience of trying to protect artwork under an Easy-up "water-resistant" (not water-PROOF) shelter during such weather events will tell you it isn't much fun. There are even horror stories involving chasing after the wind-blown structure...
Anyway, despite the awful forecast, despite setting up in a light drizzle the evening before, Wednesday dawned sunny. The day was glorious! By early afternoon the Weather Service was saying, "Well, okay, so maybe it isn't raining now, but don't start smirking yet because it's all gonna come down on you between 5 and 6, so there!" Liar, liar, pants on fire!
The sun shined, the bands played, the people came. LOTS of people came. It was a wonderful day enjoyed by shoppers and artists alike. At least two of us experienced record sales, and almost every vendor I spoke with had a very good day. It is wonderful to be a part of this. I love being in the company of such talented folks. I love meeting the people who come to browse or shop.
I came home saying, "Artists and musicians... I think I've died and gone to heaven!" Here is one of my photos that is now residing in Canada.
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..........................barnstorming
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And here's to Mare and all of the Seaway Valley Artisans: (as they say in Canada) GOOD ON YOU!
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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Is it Art, or Photography?
I love to photograph the abstract in nature, and I enjoy the occasional "Photoshopping" of an image to create a picture with a slightly surreal aspect. I guess that's my art.
That said, nothing drives me nuts more than a technically lousy photo. I want to see a picture that's tack sharp where it should be, true to color and with no blown out (over-exposed) parts. That's the photog in me. As a gallery curator recently said, "There are lots of people running around with cameras these days who think they're photographers." Amen, brother. Let me never be one of them.
Friday, June 26, 2009
I'm a Pentaxian
It took me some time to make up my mind, but in the end I stayed with Pentax. You just can't beat the lenses, and the camera is definitely smarter than I am - which maybe isn't saying much.
I love the new camera. Why did I wait this long? (Because it wasn't my birthday yet). It's a lot faster and twice as robust as the istD was, so it gives me somewhat greater enlargment/cropping capability. Couple it with the new "Limited" lens, and I'm as happy a pig in shit. Since there hasn't been much shooting opportunity lately, I still haven't tried all the bells and whistles (like the 32-shot continuous firing mode).
Now if only there were some good subjects around... LOL!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The People You Meet
One of the pleasurable things that art does is bring creative people together. Mostly it's "art" artists, but I include folks whose art is in their music.
Recently my friend Becky had a month-long show of her wool sculptures at a local gallery. It's hard to imagine "wool sculpture", but let me tell you they are amazing and beautiful. The exhibit prompted another artist, Monica, to Google her way to the blog Becky and I share, and I'm delighted to say we've "met" another wonderful artist.
I'm looking forward to our paths crossing and to getting to know her better.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Art of My Living
Spring flew by, and lots of stuff didn't get done. There are garden beds still unplanted, neglected because there were too many other things to do or it was raining on the days they might have been tended to. My back has its limits now too.
Harvesting was also victimized by time. The asparagus made it into the freezer, but the rhubarb never got canned or frozen, nor did any rhubarb pies emerge from the oven.
On the positive side, all the rain we've had is growing collosal potato plants. Tomatoes look happy too, and corn and soybeans are in, up and doing quite well. All of our wood is cut, the woodshed rearranged and partially filled. Grandson learned to ride a bike.
I "created" an office for myself at work from an ugly space piled high with computer parts and accumulated "stuff" left by previous employees. Some spackling and three coats of limey-yellow paint, a few framed photos, and I now work in a personalized, pleasant - albeit a bit small - space. Downstairs, the reception area and hallways are hung with more photos, my own gallery of sorts.
The push is on to be ready for next week's Arts Fest in Morristown. Last year I bought an Easy-Up booth and five gridwalls to display framed photos. The grids are 6' x 2' and make a sort of back wall. This year I've added three more to give me a three-sided display near the front of the booth. My photo cards will be displayed in a new revolving table-top rack, and I've bought black heavy cotton fabric to make table drapes - if I ever find the time to put them together.
My latest print order arrived Monday, and I've been busy signing, matting and bagging them. WUMB streams music through my computer as I work, and how I enjoy doing this final putting together of my creations!
The Creative Spirit gallery's juried show selected three of my five submissions. The show opening was last Friday evening.
What a blessing this old love is.
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