Brief Encounter

Caught in the moment.

Right after and just before,

Now, from time to time.

Acceptance and Rejection

Today, I received notifications for 2 juried print exhibitions, these are the first notifications for 2010.

First, the rejection. The last 2 years, I had a piece accepted into Ink & Clay, a print and ceramic exhibition at the Kellogg Gallery, California State Poly University in Pomona, California. This year, for Ink & Clay 36, my pieces were rejected. Prior to 2008, all of my pieces were rejected every year I submitted work. Am I bummed? No, I submitted 3 new monotypes that I would call a little edgy. There is always next year.

Now, the acceptance. The Mid-America Print Council has an annual juried members show. This year, 94 pieces from 32 artists were entered. The exhibition will showcase 27 pieces from 25 artists. Pretty good odds, however, last year my pieces were rejected and in 2007 as well. Good news is always welcome.

Sometimes, there are surprises. A piece doesn't get accepted, and I am baffled as to how the juror could not accept it. Then there are the times a piece of mine gets accepted over another one of mine and I feel baffled as well.

I have been keeping a accepted/rejected spreadsheet since 2003. As of today, I have been accepted 55 times out of 130 entries, that tallies to 75 rejections. Despite what would be consider a losing record , I feel successful.

Art Festivals

Great art in the great outdoors. An art festival. Sounds perfect, and well, it can be, sometimes.

Rain and hail. High winds and funnel clouds. Heat. Dry heat. Hot heat. The largest known forest fire in Colorado blocking the sun and dropping ash in Denver, 60 miles away. And, sometimes, perfect weather. I have experienced all of the above as a participant in outdoor art festivals.

Getting your art to an art festival and returning home with undamaged art is a challenge, at least for the type of pieces I display. I ran over one of my pieces once, forgetting where I placed it while attempting to secure a good parking spot as someone pulled out.

Once, doing a booth with a group of fellow printmakers at the Art Students League of Denver's Summer Art Market, I watched a friends booth while she took a break. A woman came in and told me she only had forty dollars and was undecided wether to pay the membership fee and join the League or buy a piece she really liked. I told her, that if she joined the League, she could make her own art and she agreed. But she said 'I really like this piece I saw called Little Green Men'. Little Green Men was my piece she had just seen and I talked her out of buying it. Sales are not my forte.

Booth location at an art festival can be critical. At a downtown Denver festival one year I was next to a bus stop. Loud bus noise and obnoxious bus fumes for 3 days. At another small unadvertised local neighborhood 'festival', I was next to the Face Painter and across from the Dunk Tank. The $25 booth fee should have been a dead giveaway that this was not going to be a money-maker, and I realized our booth fees were paying the local bands that played (actually Hemi Cuda was hot).

As an experimental printmaker, I have spent countless hours explaining to countless people what it is they are looking and how I created what they are looking at on the walls inside my art booth. I finally came up with 20 second, 2 minute and 20 minute versions of my explanations. The 20 second version has become very popular and I am working on a 2 second version.

People that come to art festivals can be quite entertaining, all they have to do is show up...

One person asked me what kinds of drugs I used. I am not a druggie, but replied 'Anything I can get my hands on, you got anything good?'.

A woman told her friends that she had to get out of my booth immediately because my art made her dizzy, while others have gazed at a piece for minutes.

Another woman asked her husband if he wanted to go into my booth, 'Hell no' was his reply.

I was told by a woman that if she won the Power Ball that night, that she would return the next day and buy something.

Once my booth was right in front of a popular Denver theater. People waiting to see The Go-Go's play that night congregated near my booth. The security folks were making people pour out their water bottles prior to entering the theater. A woman walked up to my booth and threw the water from her bottle all over the inside of my booth. I yelled at her and she yelled back at me calling me some rather rude things. Some friends of hers explained to her that she was in the wrong. She came to her senses and apologized to me.

I had disappointing news for a woman who inquired if I had anything for five dollars. The next year, in addition to my standard art on display, I brought postcard-sized prints advertised as 'Farmer Johnson's Old Fashioned Hand-pulled Prints - Only $5'. Considering that the prints were cut to size from prints that had flaws of sorts, I sold quite a few and even had a special of 3 for $10.

...people do tell it like it is, and as as result I have received countless compliments on my work. Now, If I can just do something about the weather.

January 1, 2000, Effort and Commitment

November 19th of 1999, I gave 2 weeks notice, resigning from a good-paying software job because I hated going to work each day. My wife would sometimes ask me when I got home from work 'Well, did you quit today?'. On November 19th, I stood there in front of my wife expecting the usual question and finally said 'Aren't you going to ask me?'. 'Ask you what' she said. 'Aren't you going to ask me if I quit my job today?' I said. She asked, I answered 'Yes'. Two weeks and I would be free.

I told my parents that I quit my job and was going to be an artist. 'Who's going to pay you?' my father asked, as if I was going to work for some company that hired artists. My wife was happy for me, but I knew I was going to be on my own through this change of career.

I found out about a Denver law firm that was looking for art to borrow to decorate the halls and offices and called to set up an appointment. The day they told me to come just happened to be my last scheduled day of work, and I could go to the law firm after I went in briefly to work and say a couple of goodbyes. The law firm agreed to borrow several acrylic paintings and call me if there was interest by potential buyers. I told the woman at the law firm I dealt with that I had quit my job and had no idea what the new millennium held in store for me, but I was excited. I was now officially in the art business.

I needed a plan if I were to have any success at pulling this off. Having stopped making art so many times over the years, I knew commitment was key, so I told myself that I would do art of some form every day starting January 1, 2000 for the entire year, as long as the menacing Y2K predictions didn't get in my way.

I took a 24" x 48" canvas and using a pencil and strait edge, created a grid of 366 sections, of which, using acrylic paints I would mask off and paint one 4 inch by 2 millimeter section every day. Also, I took a 30 page bound book watercolor paper and would create a dozen or so sections using a freehand design on each page as needed and paint one section every day. On the rare days when I would be out of town, I would paint ahead, or get caught up when getting home. I also bought 12 18" x 24" canvases, of which I would start an acrylic painting on the last day of the month and finish it the next day, the first day of the month. On December 31, 1999, I started my efforts and commitment. Prior to washing my acrylic brushes in the wash basin in our laundry room, I would wipe the excess paint on the cinder block wall behind wash basin, and as a bonus, created a year-long mural. I also signed up for a monotype class at Art Students League of Denver, little did I know that I had found a calling.

The first night of the monotype class, I expected answers to pressing questions I had about how to print the art I sometimes struggled with while painting. What came from the instructor were suggestions. I was blown away at the instant art we made that evening using plexiglass, oil-based etching inks, etching paper and an etching press. I was hooked, from the first night. I continued making monotypes, and got into zinc plate etching, Solarplate etching, screen printing, linoleum block printing as well as lithography. I even substitute taught a Solarplate class one evening.

Six years later, I had spent countless hours in the Art Students League of Denver's printmaking studio, not only buying studio time and taking every available class, but becoming the studio manager. Myself and another dedicated student approached the director and a person with money to donate with a studio improvement proposal. The proposal was accepted. Soon, we had new tables, lockers a permanent paper-soaking sink and many small but nice improvements. I worked for free and donated money for improvements as well. But what I gave most to the studio was love.

I realized that I had a dream. The dream of having my own printmaking studio.

In 2006, I was able to buy my own press (which I named Zeke), find a studio space (which I named The Atomic Malt Shop) and make my dream come true. I soon found that I missed a few of the people I worked in the studio with, but could print any time, any day for as long as I wanted. I am blessed to still have my studio and have never taken it for granted.

While I maintain a non-art job (to keep the bills paid), the commitment and effort of January 2000 paid off big time.

My approach for 2010 is not structured like I approached 2000. But, I have made a commitment to getting better at drawing, opening myself to being more involved in marketing my art, and to continue to get better at what I love. The next ten years are going to be amazing.