This so resonates with me. I'm dealing with a similar situation -- different media. My art sale is coming up in November and my new inventory is lacking. I look at past sales and think "I know what they want. I need to produce what they want." True, no? But this year I've wanted to work on new things. A different style, more practice, more breaking out of my rut. And now I'm eight weeks out with marginal new inventory (some of it quite unlike my other stuff) but a sketchbook of practice things that make me smile. I'm still working on that answer, especially as my time to paint now is limited (compared to summer) with medical issues, a book I'm trying to finish in time to print for Christmas for family, and just massive things to do after returning home after two months. Was that other time wasted? No. I loved it. So, a dilemma to which I can relate -- just paint, not words.
I'm glad you have returned to project Hazel. As I've discovered, doing what you think you should compared to doing what is giving you pleasure and joy makes a difference in the end product. Like you, I'll return to the other -- maybe soon, maybe later. But for now I'm trying to squeeze out the joy and the pleasure of it. We owe ourselves that. I do. You do, too.
Thanks, Jeanie...for sharing your similar experience. I suppose that's always going to be the sticking point when what we create eventually ends up 'for sale' -- to a point, we need to serve our audience/customer or else that relationship will suffer. I sometimes wonder if we've swung that pendulum too far, though...allowing the 'demand' to dictate the 'supply' a bit too much. But that would be my rouge anti-capitalist ideas infiltrating :). I think there's a balance there, and a need to trust that the right audience will find us....very much a wing-and-prayer approach and I know that's not feasible for many artists these days. But yes, we owe ourselves joy in the work, absolutely. xo
This so resonates with me. I'm dealing with a similar situation -- different media. My art sale is coming up in November and my new inventory is lacking. I look at past sales and think "I know what they want. I need to produce what they want." True, no? But this year I've wanted to work on new things. A different style, more practice, more breaking out of my rut. And now I'm eight weeks out with marginal new inventory (some of it quite unlike my other stuff) but a sketchbook of practice things that make me smile. I'm still working on that answer, especially as my time to paint now is limited (compared to summer) with medical issues, a book I'm trying to finish in time to print for Christmas for family, and just massive things to do after returning home after two months. Was that other time wasted? No. I loved it. So, a dilemma to which I can relate -- just paint, not words.
I'm glad you have returned to project Hazel. As I've discovered, doing what you think you should compared to doing what is giving you pleasure and joy makes a difference in the end product. Like you, I'll return to the other -- maybe soon, maybe later. But for now I'm trying to squeeze out the joy and the pleasure of it. We owe ourselves that. I do. You do, too.
Thanks, Jeanie...for sharing your similar experience. I suppose that's always going to be the sticking point when what we create eventually ends up 'for sale' -- to a point, we need to serve our audience/customer or else that relationship will suffer. I sometimes wonder if we've swung that pendulum too far, though...allowing the 'demand' to dictate the 'supply' a bit too much. But that would be my rouge anti-capitalist ideas infiltrating :). I think there's a balance there, and a need to trust that the right audience will find us....very much a wing-and-prayer approach and I know that's not feasible for many artists these days. But yes, we owe ourselves joy in the work, absolutely. xo
"a sentient cottage, a portal to the Otherworld and a talking cat."
Honestly sweetie, the jacket blurb does not need anything else. I already want to read it. xxx
Awww...thanks, lovey...that means rather more than you can imagine. xoxo