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Coming back to Denver from a convention in Utah, was pulled over by the Utah state patrol.  "to check my tinted windows".  Looked in the mirror and there were THREE cruisers parked behind me.  Seems my

Colorado license plates had attracted their attention.  Looking for pot smugglers no doubt.  You can bet

I will be keeping my paperwork handy on my out of state trips this season.  Along with license, registration and proof of insurance, I'll be bringing my letters/contracts from the events I'm traveling to.  Also my promotional brochures and cards.

That way I will have some evidence to show the cops when they pull me over.

Safe travels,

Bill "Stretch"Coleman
Bill Coleman Entertainment

http://www.stiltwalker.com/
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There are only 5 days left for my Kickstarter project to reach its pledge goal: http://kck.st/UzXeft

Some of you may have seen my blog post about it, others may have heard about it on the Art Fair Radio podcast I participated in last week.  If not, here it is, and its down to the wire!!!

I have 5 days for my project to reach its pledge goal, or I don't receive the funding for the project.  I am so excited to go on this trip to Australia and create some great new work there and this project is going to help me in a BIG way.  I will be able to do a lot more traveling while in Australia and get to some amazing places!!!

Check out the project and please share with your friends and networks (facebook/twitter): http://kck.st/UzXeft

Thank you!!!

Well, after spending most of the summer and early fall in Delaware, NJ and Virginia,  I'm nearly caught up on winter show applications, spreadsheet tallying, housecleaning, cat-feeding, new-neighbor meeting, and mailing out my 2013 calendars (not necessarily in order of importance).  So time to crunch a few more numbers and figure out whether all that travel was worthwhile.

Last year, I spent three weeks with my brother in Pennsylvania and another five weeks at an extended stay hotel in the Jersey-side suburbs of Philadelphia, then rented a home 20 minutes from the beach for my final three shows.  The lodging expenses killed me, and the show revenues weren't nearly able to keep up. 

This year, I drove my van up in the early summer, then flew back and forth between FL and Atlantic City airport on Spirit Airlines.  I booked shows so that I could fly up on a Thursday, drive to a hotel in Delaware (or Jersey shore), and do three shows in 17 days, then return to Atlantic City, park my van in third-party, offsite parking at the Ramada Inn just outside the city limits, and fly back home for a week or two.  Then: Lather, rinse, repeat through the end of October. 

Being able to return home was great for the psyche and the bank account (it costs me $550-$600 a week to be on the road, plus the show fees, vs. less than $400 for round-trip ticket plus parking).  From summer 2011, I learned that there's nothing worse than staying for a week in an extended-stay hotel with no revenues coming in--unless it's booking a crappy show just to keep busy. (At the end of the season, I nabbed a Spirit Airlines credit card with a generous mileage rewards program, so hopefully I can reduce flight expenses even more in 2013.)

The other difference to the bottom line was that this year, I managed to have a couple of gangbuster shows (Rehoboth Beach, DE and Stockley Gardens (Norfolk)) to offset the dead ones (two wildlife art shows in Ocean City and Stone Harbor NJ, among others).

Stockley Gardens (Oct. 20-21) was the summer's most pleasant surprise.  Held in and along four city blocks in an upscale downtown Norfolk neighborhood, this is one of those shows that residents circle on their calendars and plan for.  Quality was high, as befits this very competitive show.  Crowds were steady from the opening bell through close of the show, and never have I seen customers more focused on purchasing--and purchasing carefully.  They browsed, marked their scorecards with their favorites, and came back to buy.  If they had an issue (size, color, and--more rarely--price), they communicated it and were open to conversations to resolve it.  Only once(!) all weekend did I hear "I'll think about it."  Happily for me, it's a real 2-D loving crowd: painters and photographers did particularly well. 

Despite tight on-street parking that made load-in more work than I would have liked, this show was truly a pleasure to do, and as professionally run (by volunteers) as any show I've ever participated in. 

AFI member Dave Hinde, who lives in the area, also turned me on to a nice little show run by the Chesapeake Art Association in nearby Ocean View the previous weekend.  As the name implies, the show runs right along the ocean, and during setup on Saturday morning the 30-40 mph gusts made setup a back-wrenching challenge.  But the breezes died down a bit by 10 am, and the crowds were surprisingly steady for such a small show, particularly on Saturday.  I wound up with a sales total about 50% more than I'd expected for a small, artist-run event--giving me a nice "bridge show" so I could spend extra time in the Norfolk/Portsmouth area.  I headed out only a week before Hurricane Sandy headed up the coast, dealing a glancing blow to this area before hitting the Jersey shore.

The tidewater area of VA seems like an area worthy of more investment. Besides the shows I did (which included the Seawall Art Show in late August), there's Port Warwick, Virginia Beach Boardwalk, Gosport, and a few others.  

Overall, the Jersey shore area shows were disappointing. Summer weather scuttled all, or part, of nearly every show I did in June and July, and the much-heralded Wheaton Arts Festival of Fine Craft in Millville NJ (also victimized by all-day rain on Sunday) wasn't much of sales event for 2-D artists.  Beyond which, I miscalculated what would sell up there: I took larger canvases with me this summer, which have been selling well in Florida. But up North they didn't sell nearly as well as the smaller ones I'd shown in 2011.  Like all of us, I'm hoping that the Jersey shore and other areas afflicted by Sandy rebuild better, and safer, than ever...but I doubt I'll spend as much time there in 2013 as I did in years past. 

Attention traveling Artists! (or anybody needing a HOTEL room)

If you have to hit the road to participate in art shows, fairs, festivals, gallery openings, seminars, conferences, or any other reason that requires an overnight stay...

...this card trick is for you.

Combine the cost-saving benefits of using Priceline.com...

...with the additional tool of TheBiddingTraveler.com.

Assuming you like saving money and getting a decent stay for a great rate then you are probably already a big fan of Priceline.com...notwithstanding the quirky, punching pitch-ster, William Shatner.

TheBiddingTraveler acts like an Ace-in-the-hole to give you the advantage during on-line negotiations.

They aggregate all the recent winning bids (and the rejected bids) for specific hotels, giving your bidding strategy the edge.  Kind of like getting to peek at the other guys cards.

Other sites claim to offer this information but I particularly like the simple navigation of this web site.  On the first visit it was easy to use and aligned with the same 'definitions and formats' as Priceline, for hotel ratings, zones, and maps.

Beyond the option of manually entering your bid, you can also choose a nifty Autobid feature.  Simply enter your lowball bid and your 'final offer' highest bid...you can leave the table and let The Computer play out the hand for you, thereby 'managing' the different timeline rules Priceline has for re-bids.  Autobid starts low and automatically raises it in increments until a bid is accepted or the final offer is rejected.

Consider the combination of Priceline and TheBiddingTraveler and you really can get winning hands of 60%+ off normal hotel rates. Hey, a 3-star Hyatt Place in Birmingham for the low $40's/night ain't too bad.

Sort of tickles the left-side of my brain...my wife the artist, just says..."make sure they have good beds".

April 5...Somewhere on I-10 in Texas

When you begin describing a life-changing experience, it is difficult to put it into words that don’t sound trite or hackneyed.

During the initial rush to start tearing down at 6:30 on Sunday, it was easy to keep focused on the task at hand and not dwell on the fact that we had formed close friendships and would be saying goodbye.  But Monday morning, as I walked through the tent for a final check, I was bawling like a calf.  After three months of living, working, sharing, and playing with other artists, you become really close. These are the people that I want to be around: a genuine, creative, caring, sharing community.  I have never been a part of one like this; the closest thing was college, but that wasn’t the same.  Here, as adults who are pursuing their dreams and fulfilling who they want to be, there was little animosity or jealousy.  Framer Dude and I were accepted and embraced, and he became an integral part of this family- something he didn’t expect.  As the one left-brained, pragmatic, problem solver amidst a sea of right-brained artists, he became the go-to guy for anything and everything.  From manning the grill and cafe, to building frames and easels, to helping set up and tear down weekend shows, to trouble shooting RV and auto difficulties, there was perhaps four days out of seventy that he had nothing to do.  I have to admit, in January, I was worried that he’d be bored silly in the middle of the desert.  But now, he’s anticipating coming back next year to our new friends.  The drive just sucks.

I think you get back what you put into life, once you find where you’re supposed to be and what you’re supposed to do.  I explored creative avenues and pulled off several new paintings, tried new approaches that didn’t work, and learned about focusing (not easy with ADHD). We have preconceived notions of whom we become friends with. Though we come from all over the country from all walks of life, we found common ground with each other and shared the joys of selling and the hard times; we shared knowledge, critiques, trust, aggravations, poker games, recipes, meals, and happy hours.  My daily walking partner, Shalah, a sculptor of magnificent spiritual pieces and her sister Karen, are ranchers from Colorado whose down-to-earth frankness is similar to my own New York attitude, without my accent (which always tickled Travis from Utah). I found an adopted mother and father in Jeanne and Travis, and an older sister in Cynthia that I love to shop with. Fountain Steve, our RV neighbor, missed his family up in Oregon terribly, and found a place with us many nights.  Kaleidoscope Steve and Framer Dude became buddies and were constantly trading wit.  Marlon and Terri somehow encouraged anti-religion Framer Dude to go to church with them.   They’re going to have their work cut out for themselves next year. 

Framer Dude and Marlon

I know this is also supposed to report on the economics of the show as well.  Judy, Judi and Dennis do an amazing job promoting the Expo, no easy task when there’s already one other ten-week show going on at the same time (Celebration) and which has a prime location right off the 101.  But the patrons who came always remarked on the atmosphere at Expo- welcoming and approachable.  Some artists did exceptionally well; some did not. The economy is still being felt in Arizona, but Scottsdale and the surrounding neighborhoods of Carefree and Cave Creek are second- and third-home communities.  Canadians make up a large part of the art-buying, and Canada’s economy is still strong. 

But the rewards went far beyond financial.  I learned how full time artists work, since that’s something I’ve never experienced neither here in my isolated little part of the world nor, for that matter, anywhere else.   Art tends to be an isolated venture, and it’s up to each artist to find solidarity among other artists, if they need that.  I was brought up in a family that treated art as something that (fill in the adjective here) people did and was not taken seriously as a career.  This trip to Arizona showed me professional, responsible artists that make it work.  It is possible to have a career as an artist, and it’s a lot of work.  But I’ve worked hard at other jobs that I didn’t like, so why waste my time on that?  When I do my marketing, networking, creating, it doesn’t feel like work.  It feels like what I’m supposed to do, and I’m glad I’m here to report on that and share with all of you.  I will have the silly pictures coming soon, since we not only work hard, we play hard too!!

...and how do I feel?  A metaphorical picture says a thousand words:

Before Expo:

After Expo:

Same brush.  A #7 red sable filbert.  We both worked out tails off.  For those of you who have been wondering what in tarnation happened to me, I promise there will be full reports coming.  Once I park my watongus in the sand of Pensacola's Gulf beaches next week and have two margaritas in hand, I will have the full Expo digest.  But, in short, it has been the most productive three months of my young career as a full-time artist, I've met fellow artists who have become good friends, and I will be bawling my eyes out when I leave.  

Note to self: The desert can get cold.  I don’t mean the kind of cold where you can bundle up and do fun aerobic activity in, like ice skate or have a snowball fight.  No, it’s a bone chilling cold that comes from sitting still for hours at a time in front of the easel in a tent that likes pretending it’s a refrigerator.  I was not prepared for this.  I brought one heavy wool sweater and I’m sick of it.  Paint takes on a tar-like consistency that mangles good sable brushes.  Paintings that I expected to set up overnight are still wet and sticky, so I now have six paintings going.  All wet.  That’s not a bad thing, but it makes maneuvering around my abbreviated studio area a dicey proposition, especially since I’m forced to also wear my nice coyote vest over said heavy wool sweater while painting, as it’s the warmest thing I brought. Factor in a pair of heavy sheepskin gloves, and you’ve got a rhinoceros trying to needlepoint.

I’ve been sitting here with a hodgepodge of half blocked in pieces, wallowing in the self-imposed peer pressure brought on by being surrounded by productive artists, and feeling the labor pains of a new style that wants a midwife.  I know we all struggle with our art, we all talk every day here under the big top.  It’s gratifying, in a small, small way, to know that others are struggling too, and I don’t mean that to say misery loves company.  But, being human, we have all absolutely convinced ourselves that no one is struggling quite as much as we are.  Everyone else here looks to me as if they are moving swimmingly and effortlessly along, blissfully turning out canvases like biscuits from a well-greased tray.  No one could possibly be feeling the angst that I am, the utter self-deprecation that cloaks itself in thoughts like, What was I thinking coming here?  Or, even better, in the voice of a certain influential family member, You’ll be selling portraits in Grand Central Station for a nickel...there’s a million artists better than you!   It becomes a bedlam that calls for large doses of Pink Floyd and vodka.

 But, open book that I am, I have confided my existential crisis to a few kindly souls, and relieved to know this twisting agony is not unique nor my own personal neurotic albatross to bear.  It comforts me and lets me continue in the face of struggle.  It also make me think, why the hell hasn’t a European tour promoter come up with a new kind of tour to supplement the mainstream cultural tours of Florence, Rome, Paris?  There’s Al Capone/Gangster Tours of Chicago, there ought to be a new Tours de France: Van Gogh in Arles: Assault of Gaugin and Institutionalized in San Remy.  I’d be first in line.  Just think, the unknown works of the Great Masters: the fits of pique and the holes punched in the wall, broken brushes and rent canvases, arrest records, psychologists’ notes (depending on the century and statute of limitations on patient-client privilege).  I remember withering upon entering the Uffizi, the Galleria dell'Accademia, Museo dell'Opera del Duomo, and weeping over my own paintings later at night.  Oh, what a relief it would have been to this young artist to know Caravaggio was a criminal- a felon!   That Michelangelo’s father was disgusted with him for choosing art as a career and suffered from low self-esteem!  (The Agony and the Ecstasy would have been helpful reading.)  

The artistic struggle that exists within an often solitary work environment can break the budding artist unfamiliar and unprepared for this mine-ridden emotional psychological territory.  From what I can recall from art school days, the most the topic was ever addressed was maybe a fleeting, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  You might as well tell a teenaged girl that those five extra pounds make her look healthy and the glasses make her face unique.   I propose new classes at the university level:  how would a, say, Psychology of Creativity 101 go over?  Or, The Blank Canvas: You DON’T Need a Straightjacket and Lithium! ? My guess is those classes would be standing room only and there’d be a hell of a lot more well adjusted artists pouring out of art schools telling arrogant gallery owners to stick their attitudes where the sun don't shine.  Perhaps a cooking class: Ramen Noodles and The Food Pyramid? OK, maybe not.  But if we had Psychology for Creative Productivity classes maybe we wouldn’t have to battle the myth of the starving tortured artist so much.  Sure, there’s a bunch of books out there on the topic, self help books, but most of them are written by opportunists with a bent towards self-promotion and prey on us artists desperate for an answer.

Baloney.

No one can tell you the answer.

You just gotta go through it.

I’ve been here almost three weeks, at what some of us are affectionately calling the Fine Art Boot Camp Expo, and there’s no way out but through.  That’s a thought that actually comforts me, much as the Serenity Prayer gives a recovering alcoholic the strength to go on.  Then I can take a Xanax at 3 am and leaf through Georgia O’Keeffe’s abstracts until I finally pass out around 4 and Framer Dude awakens me at 8 with a chopsaw.  Yeah, I’m painting everyday. I’m an artist!  This is the life!  Would someone just get me another sweater to wear?

OK, I’ve fallen behind a couple of days and peeps, I had a couple of hairy nights and Expo had the Gala last night, which I’ll write about in a separate post.  Suffice it to say, I may not have been writing, but I’m collecting a ton of material...onto Charles, today’s Peep!

Charles came into the art world because of a terrible accident which nearly ended his life.  Despite the fact that it ended a very successful career as a high-end carpenter, he says he would “relive the accident a thousand times” because it opened up a new life for him.  One look at his work and you can understand why: these beautiful forms couldn’t come out of a two-by-four! Organic, flowing, full of movement, the wood comes alive, this in purple heartwood and maple:

I wish I could do the wood grain justice with my camera for this mahogany piece:

Although he has patiently explained to me the intricate process of transforming a 2-D drawing into a 3-D sculpture, I still can’t wrap my mind around it.  It looks ingenious to my2-D artist eyes.  This is a piece in the making:

 Here's Charles with his sculptures to give you an idea of the size.

See more of Charles’ work at: envisionsbytaube.com

Post 1/28  29/11

I am pleased as punch to report that I made a rather large sale the other day; however, this is where experience separates itself from just plain old dumb luck. Realize now, that I still am a fairly relative newby with less than three years art show experience under my tent.  So, when a wonderful patron asked me, “And how much is shipping to New Hampshire?”  I played coy and said I’d have to check my book and get them a quote.  Hell, I’ve shipped paintings to Germany!  How difficult could it be to ship a piece to Keene, NH?

Well.

I checked my little book, and recited the quote for the USPS for a piece 36” X 24” and up to 25 lbs to NY for $85.00.  Hey, how much more could a piece 52” X 24” be? A few bucks?  Oh no no no no.  At a certain dimension, the USPS turns its back on you.  At a certain weight, UPS and FedEx just hand you Vaseline and tell you to bend over.  There is a netherworld out there in shipping, where the actual size of a package is eclipsed by its estimated weight category.  This is the best way I have to describe it, and it’s better this way, because my tequila report is interwoven with it.  Apparently, according to one private shipping company (which may be the issue) dimensions and weight cease to matter and become a nebulous area where the length x width x girth is estimated to fall within an estimated weight range, and if your package doesn’t fall within these specifications, they hand you the extra large bottle of Vaseline.  Uh huh. 

“Three hundred thirty dollars.  Plus one hundred twenty nine to build the crate.”

“Two hundred sixty five dollars, and that’s only a thousand dollars insurance.”

“Well, air will insure any amount, if you can prove its value, but ground will only insure up to a thousand.”

Hang on.  I’m getting to the tequila report.

So, after a few hours of feeling like I bit off both ends of my burrito, so to speak, I began to ask other artists which shipper they use.

“Shipper?” many of them inquired with a politely raised eyebrow. “Why would I want to use one of those?”

For the first few days of the show, my booth was peppered with fliers from private shippers advertising “free packing”, “will pick up from show”, “insurance included”.  I began to feel like a college student shopping for car insurance.  I didn’t even know there was a difference between packing and crating.

“You make your own box.”  Upon viewing my completely obtuse expression, my peeps began to explain.

“You go to Home Depot.  You grab a refrigerator box.  They’re always throwing them out, they’re free and they’re heavy duty.  You cutta the box to size.  Now, if you gotta canvas, you gotta getchaself summa masonite and putta thata on the face of it...you builda your owna box...”

Ok, so maybe I’m overdoing the Godfather bit, but it was about as big a mystery to me as say, oh, cannoli cream, cappozella, and Casa Nostra.  So, taking me under their wings, these obliging artists initiated me into Packing Your Own Artwork 101.  “Screw the shippers,” went the first commandment, “they overcharge.”

As Framer Dude is collaterally involved with this adventure, he was adamant that I buy a box from someone: “I am NOT dumpster diving for cardboard!  We’ll go to the shippers and buy a box!”

So, we went to various packers.

“I can order that size for you, it’ll be here Wednesday.”

“A 65” x 30” x 6” is $70.  Yeah, just the cardboard box, lady.  We gotta pay to freight it here.”

“You need a crate for that size.  Mine are $129.”

Uh huh.  When a shipper charges more for a box than I paid for a painting to go to Gemany, I start to get the idea that maybe I’m being played and taken for the rube I am.   I don’t like that feeling.  I retreated into my wounded manic artist persona in the truck home, feeling about as stable as nitroglycerin.  Seriously, one decent sale and I shoot myself in the foot and eat my profits with the shipping? There’s got to be a better way.  Maybe I don’t have all the money in the world, but if I bought a painting for say, 2 grand and then was told I’d have to pay 500 in shipping, I’d balk on principle and rent my own damn uhaul and driver for less!

Framer Dude suddenly changed his tune when another boothbuddy pointed out all our frigging tools.

“Can he build a crate?  I mean, it’s kinda like building a frame...I got a painting I have to ship next week, and I’d pay you to make it rather than one of these vulture shippers.”

 MacGuyver Dude pipes up.

“I can build a crate.”  

Today I saw the covert looks towards him with visual vocalizations of “Crates” along with fingers pointing.  He may be leaving hot dog heaven soon.

So, having been deflowered by the packing and shipping companies, one of the veteran artists who has taken me under his wing, gently tugged at my sleeve at Happy Hour yesterday and offered me a consolation/congratulation: homemade tequila by a compadre of his from Mexico.  A bit of law and trivia (are the two even mutually exclusive?): if you make your own tequila in Sonoran County, you are not allowed to call it ‘tequila’; this was called Baccanora, or something like that.  I took French and Latin in high school, what was I thinking?

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he assured me as he expertly daubed finishing touches on a commissioned painting.  What, the shipping?   “...don’t take it like a shot, just sip it.” Oh. Oops.

Sippin’ tequila.  This stuff had a smoky cactusy burn to it, complex and oaky and flowery, that would have made it a venal sin to mix it with anything.  Well, after a water glass of this pure cactus heaven, I stumbled back to my RV, only to find Framer Dude and another peep engaging in another consciousness-altering substance.

Feeling suitably invincible now, I acquiesced to this peep’s generous offer as well.  Which is why this blog post was not published last night, as originally intended.  Beware of artists bearing gifts.

Keith caught my eye with his gently evocative scenes of places he has visited which hold a special place in his heart.  From his home state of Utah, to sunny Italy, his scenes reflect a quiet spirituality, even the bears he photographed himself at Yellowstone:

This trail winding through the woods of Utah really intrigues me and I would love to follow it.  It reminds me of the Long Island I used to know, peaceful and unspoiled (without the mountains though!)

Keith has been one of the troopers here through this spate of unusually cold weather we've had here (30-40 degrees under the tent),  on site painting at the Expo quietly working away on several new pieces armed with coat, mittens, and hot chocolate.  I think we should get like, Purple Paintbrushes or something.

See Keith's work at www.keithdabbfinearts.com

 I think it’s fair to call Lauren Queen of the Sky. She captures the sweeping, dramatic desert sunsets here in the Southwest in vibrant impressionistic strokes; I am psyched to see that someone else has noticed that at a certain time during some twilight skies there is a green streak:

When you stand up close and look at Lauren’s work, her brushwork is loose; step back about ten feet, and these large canvases turn into crystal clear scenes. I was reminded of Chuck Close.

I have the privilege of seeing her start and complete a commissioned piece, from sketch to underpainting to final layers. Once again, I am reminded of my own goal: learn to paint faster. I am learning much by watching my peeps!

Visit Lauren’s site at http://laurenknode.com

I've decided that I'm going to post one artist a day while here at the Fine Art Expo here in Scottsdale.  My photography is lousy, my writing is amateur, but I'd like to honor all my peeps who devote ten weeks of their lives to exhibit at this wonderful show, and have extended a helping hand to me with my endless questions.  Today, for my first victim, I chose Cynthia Downs-Apodaca, who was the first artist I met here last Monday during setup.  She is the first woman I have ever met who is more of a rock geek than I am, and once you see her jewelry, you can see why.  What first caught my eye were the opals, since opals are my favorite gemstone and I can spot one at a hundred yards across an art show.  The silver wire braiding that she does is so intricate, I don't think my photos can even come close to doing it justice:

She also has these fabulous pieces she calls Tidal Pools, and in this one, the bottom stone- an Australian boulder opal- actually has a teeny beach scene in it!  Talk about the intricacy in nature! 

I'm also impressed whenever I see a woman firing up an acetylene torch and power tools, as she was hard at work one evening, after the show had closed.  Look for her wearable minerals at cynthiadowns.com. 

Cynthia, sans goggles and mask:

I can truly say she rocks!

Before I forget, notes from the road that I took and had no real internet access. (who really has the patience to blog on a Droid? Not me)...if you’re ever traveling in an RV on I 10 through LA and TX, there’s a terrific rest area just east of the stateline in Slidell, LA.  It’s the Welcome Center available to both east and west bound travelers, set off the interstate, and although it says no overnight parking, the security guard directed us to an RV campground area, separate from the big rigs, where they had a dump station and water pumps available free.  Despite the fact it was 23 degrees that night and we had no gas for the genie for heat, we slept very well.  It’s all about layering.  It reminded me of the show I did in Cape Coral last January, when it was sleeting and dropped to 30 at night.  We had just gotten the RV, and checking out the heater was not on the list of priorities.  Who needs to worry about heat on an RV when you live in Florida, right? 

Today we were able to venture out for pleasure, namely the Carefree Fine Art and Wine Festival, and enjoy this absolutely perfect weather that the Phoenix area has to offer this time of year.  The civil engineers/ city planners of Carefree have built a spectacularly beautiful town in Carefree.  I am enchanted by a town that does not have those horrible strip mall billboard store advertisements that seem to line every street in America, and concrete laid everywhere.  The goal of this city's planning was to blend with the natural desert landscape, and they show what can be done with a little careful planning, more focus on aesthetics, and less on the almighty dollar.  And a lot of buckos, too.  Framer Dude was a little annoyed that we couldn't see what was in each shopping plaza as we passed, or even if it was a shopping plaza, and I suppose I see his point from the driver's seat of a ginormous dually in a town really geared for Porsches and Mini coopers.   But it is a town that is a pleasure to explore, even if we had to turn around once or twice to find the Target to get our wireless adapter.  But I digress...

Thunderbird, from what I've heard, is a family-oriented operation that puts on top-notch festivals, and there was great quality art at this show.  There seemed to be a good balance of mediums, and in fact, seemed light on jewelry, probably because it was all very high end.  I got to meet a few artists who will be exhibiting at the Expo next week, who were taking in a last weekend show before settling down for 10 weeks under the tents behind me.  I am really looking forward to this Expo, and confident in Judy, Judi, and Dennis' abilities to attract the buying patrons.  I must admit I have a few worries that I am not Southwest enough.  But I guess that's the normal jitters when one ventures outside one's comfort zone.  From what I've been reading in the AFI discussions, FL's shows have been losing ground for a while, so if I ( as a fairly newcomer to the business) was able to make some profit in FL, then anywhere else will seem like gravy.  Right? No?  I hear about the artists who did shows in the glory days of the 90's and sold out their inventory, had 5 figure shows, and I can't even wrap my mind around that...

This is an enormous setup that goes on here that even Framer Dude the Pragmatic was impressed by.  The 2D artists' booths occupy probably close to 2 1/2 acres under the tent, and I can't fathom the work that goes into putting that puppy up.  Then, there is an outdoor sculpture garden of about half an acre, which includes a Koi pond and specimen plants.  I can't wait to see it all come together.  We've met and broken bread (ok, cracked a beer with) some artists doing double duty and helping to erect this exhibit, and everyone is as nice as can be, which once again makes me glad to have chosen this profession (actually, it chose me).   What's also super sweet is that my booth is only 200 dollying feet away from our RV (and bed)! 

Tomorrow, I bust out the paints and start some sketching for new ideas.  I love the desert and the cactus; it's so different than where I'm from, I'm getting a much needed kick in the pants to try something new!  I just have to be careful when I back up while taking pictures: I almost sat on one of these.

Lori, an oil painter like myself, lives here in the Phoenix area, and the first work of hers to catch my eye was one of Kaibab Path at the Grand Canyon, a dramatic scene of this winding path that descends to the floor of the canyon.  This really captures the claustrophobia of a narrow mountain pass contrasted against the vertigo of a sheer canyon drop: 

And because the glare was so bad, here's a detail:

I also really liked her handling of the architecture and the light shining through in this piece,

The first thought that struck my mind was that her scenes remind me of the Mediterranean, with her use of color and play of light; as it turns out, there is no need to go abroad to capture beautiful light: many of her scenes are of California and the Southwest, and her scenes are well known to locals.  Her work feels warm and inviting, like a Southern California summer day.

See more of Lori’s work at www.lorimyers.com.

I’ve been told to adjust my expectations with this show.  On any decent weekend show, you’ll get 50 to 80 thousand people walking through, walking their dogs and such; at this show, over ten weeks, you’ll get 80 thousand people walking through, but they are art buyers.  So, the weekend seemed alarmingly sparse in comparison, but I’m assured that many of these people come back several times with their $12 seasonal pass, after they’ve measured their spaces. The crowd here comes to buy art, and quite a few of the artists are out of the gate strongly this year with a big sale in the first weekend, a change from last year.   Many of these buyers have several homes, and they want their selections shipped to their other homes, so be prepared to deal with shipping.  Home showings are also de rigueur, and those can turn into a terrific social event for the artist of honor.  I can’t wait.

One goal I have set for myself here is to learn to paint faster.  I am absolutely pea green with envy over the painters who can complete a large-scale painting in a week.  And those painters out there who can do one, two paintings a night?  Well, I just turn into the scene in the Exorcist, head-spinning, pea-soup spurting and all. 

I realize I simply cannot afford to spend six months on a painting, no matter how tightly detailed I am. From observing some heavy hitters in the field (a big shout out to Kelby Love, who has generously given me painting tips and is as magnificent a wildlife painter as they come), it can be done without sacrificing detail and quality. So, I am taking advantage of the relative quiet and have churned out several full color sketches ready to go to a finish over the past few days.  Today I worked productively on four different paintings, which I think is a record for me... my work is cut out for me.

Last night, we attended a private soiree given by a fine art photographer- Andy at Century Editions-  for artists at the Expo. Andy, you know how to give a feast!  If he can shoot as good as he cooks, he’s got my next works!  How he got a hold of buffala mozzarella that good west of the Hudson is beyond me, but for a few drooling moments last night I was back home on Long Island...

I have been concerned about Framer Dude getting bored out here in the middle of nowhere and doing something really stupid, like buying a super-charged dirt bike and tear-assing across the desert and impaling himself on a cactus. But, he has once again utilized his many faceted skills and abilities and has become the stand-in grillmaster here at the Expo.  The café king and queen here had to return home suddenly today for an emergency, and as Dude was being his usual yenta self, bored and helpful and inquisitive, he found himself the de facto short order cook with a recalcitrant gas grill and a stack of all-beef patties.   Tonight, he’s counting his tips and checking out Kawasakis and Yamahas...I may still find myself picking cactus quills out of his butt in a month.

Marjorie and Billy, the thoughts and prayers of all artists here are with you, and no one beats your chili!

Here is my booth, lovingly set up by Framer Dude:

And many of us right before the bell rang at 10:00 on Thursday:

Post from January 10, 5 pm after switching driving...

Well, days and 875 miles into the road trip and Framer Dude and I haven’t killed each other yet, that’s a good sign.  But we have 1,200 miles left, 800 miles of it just through Texas alone, so there’s a lot of tread left on these tires, so to speak. 

I hate interstates.  They take the fun out of a road trip, but for the sake of expediency, they’re a necessary evil.  Coming home I will do secondary routes.  There’s so much out here to see and I don’t want to become cynical, too “been there, done that”, too old in the mind.  That’s one thing that is vastly different between my road trips in my teens and now, and I touched on that in my last post.  I had Tom Petty’s Full Moon Fever album (HA!! I just showed my age!!) playing as I left Louisiana and blasted into Beaufort, TX.   I reminisced that I had first bought the cassette tape for a road trip when I was 18 and taking a road trip on I 90 west with my college buddy Warren, when I was the only one in my dorm with a car (my great-aunt’s 71 Maverick, 3 on the tree, no heat, no ac, no power brakes or steering, and a gas gauge that worked intermittently).  We would get a hair up our butt to just “go west” into cow country out of Albany, NY to see what there was to see.  I still remember that sense of adventure, the excitement and we and maybe a few other clueless 18 year old piled into my car and headed west.   No particular destination, just wanted to see what was around the next bend.

I miss that feeling.  Sure, I’m excited as a little painter can be, going to the expo across the country, quitting a 40K steady job to do it, how much more ballsy can you be?  But I want to be that adventurous kid again.  I want to wonder what’s around the next bend, be wide eyed at the mystery and beauty of it all.  I don’t want to be a staid middle ager reluctant to leave the security of my GPS and next clean pair of socks.  Going on a road trip used to mean you definitely weren’t going out there to be sure there was a Walmart within 10 miles.  I know my fellow RV’ers out there know what I mean, and most of us artists too, because that’s what we do- create from a place that inspires us, and try to pass that along. 

But for the moment, time is of the essence, and here I am on on I 10 weaving my artmobile through Houston’s rush hour traffic. I am always a little awed by the sweeping concrete overpasses that crisscross each other around cities, I suppose in the same way that Edward Hopper was when he painted his cityscapes.  There is a kind of industrial beauty that Art Deco was fascinated with.  I may try my hand at painting one of them if I ever get bored of rocks.  I guess if you think about it, the overpasses are a kind of rock...maybe.

...that this is where you are supposed to be?  For the past couple of years, I've toyed with the idea of attending a workshop for a week, and hopefully be able to choose someone who is a good teacher and a good artist.  Now, here, it appears my search has been fulfilled, because I am surrounded daily by hard at work artists.  The energy here is amazing, intense and positive.  Other artists echo my sentiment; they accomplish more work in the ten weeks here than the rest of the year.  I've truly missed the old art school feeling I remember of pulling all nighters and the determination to create, create, create.  I have even found the courage to plunge into a stylistic change which has been lurking in the back of my mind as I've found myself a bit bored with the photo-realism I'm known for.  It seems as soon as Framer Dude and I crossed the AZ border, the name Georgia O'Keeffe  rose, unbidden, into the forefront of my mind.  Now, I have been somewhat familiar with her work most of my adult life.  But when I did a Google search the other night on her images, her work resonated within me for the first time. Aha,  I thought to myself, THIS is where abstraction meets realism !  I'm not going to say I understand abstract art or "get " it all the time;  I'm not too proud to say that I still don't really get Pollock.  But seeing Georgia's realistic intimate landscapes (as I have come to call mine) and her consequent progressions into abstractions of the same subject, I see what she's trying to say.  It's a catharsis of sorts.

I have met artists here at the peaks of their careers, and they are generous in  sharing their acquired knowledge and providing constructive critiques.  Understand, I have worked in near solitude for the past 10 years, where productive interaction with fellow artists was brief, few and far between.  I couldn't have chosen a better workshop, and paid less, since this is a ten week gig, plus there is the opportunity to make sales.  I broke the ice today and sold 2 (small) pieces, with a strong bite from her friend on a much larger piece.  Here, the artists have a silly little dance that they all do to celebrate each other's sales (after the celebrant patron has left the vicinity, of course.).  I will be inducted tomorrow morning.

Did I mention our Happy Hour?  Every day, at 5, a metal artist sounds his gong, and many of us who have been hard at work all day rush to gather at one artist's booth, who takes his role as master artist seriously and master of happy hour very graciously.  Framer Dude is in awe of him.  He is the consummate successful professional artist who is able to enjoy life to the fullest and is utterly gracious.  As Dude stated last night, "He cranks out a %$#^&!@ painting a week, gets paid $%^@& good $$$, and %$#&!  parties at night!  Why can't you be him?"  Or something like that,  I didn't hear the rest of it, I pushed him off the log into the fire. (Dude was between his fourth and fifth Jack so he didn't feel the third degree burns til this morning)  Anyway...patrons sometimes mingle with the artists during this very informal setting, and they get a kick out of hanging with us.  I have met some terrific artists who are terrific people also, and for a relative newbie like me, it's a brilliant view of what one can accomplish in the short-term, as well as long-term for life goals.

Anyhow, I just know that this is where I am supposed to be right now, and quitting my 40K a year job in FL was just a part of it.  All my pics are on the Mac right now, so I'll share them later.

Getting ready to leave for Scottsdale, AZ for the Fine Art Expo.  Do we have everything we need to live in an RV for 3 months?  Did I commit professional suicide by quitting my job?  Or will dear hubby kill me while fighting over the last soda in the mini fridge?

These are some of the questions that plague me as I'm trying to unwind after fighting with the brushes all day.   The forced inactivity as we stick close to home preparing to leave leads to a lot of anxious hand-wringing.   Today I had the brilliant idea of hooking up the outdoor shower to conserve our graywater capacity.  Yeah, until I saw the high temp in Scottsdale today:  56.   Then, I actually crunched numbers and figured how many fill ups we'll have to do between Spring Hill, FL, and Phoenix, AZ: eight.  With diesel hovering around $3.20 a gallon, and the truck eats 25 gallons per stop, that's...$600, and I haven't even set up my booth yet.  Yikes.  I'm gonna go rock myself to sleep now, as soon as I finish the vodka.