I’ve been busy this last week putting together artwork for the new gallery that I spoke about last week. Looking at current artwork and making decisions regarding framing for it, and finishing off some artwork that could be improved upon. I’ve been on an artistic high, and happy, and really looking forward to getting involved with it and working in conjunction with the gallery owner who I liked as a person, when I met her last week.
I’ve been caught up with the creative high of it.
I’m always positive anyway, and this has instantly brought me up to a newer level of positivity.
The picture I was working on yesterday was an erotic landscape that I almost completed a few years ago, and looking at it afresh I wondered why it wasn’t completed then, since it was all but done.
I have a title for it today. I have only a few more hours work to do on it, and it will be complete.
Ready to show to the visitors to this new venue for me.
At 7pm last night, after scraping off the acrylic paint that my hands were besplattered with, I had a quick look at any emails that had come in whilst I was involved with my painting.
And there was one that stood out more than all the others. One that I didn’t want to read.
It was an apology and a brief explanation as to why the gallery owner had made a business decision that meant that her and my working together wasn’t going to materialise.
The thing that made it more poignant was possibly that I fully understood her decisions, fully backed them, fully comprehended her reasons.
But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt, or cut deep, or affect my mood after that.
I was SOOO looking forward to working with her, soooo enjoying putting the selection of artwork together, soooo wanting to create more artwork in the same vein, sooo wanting to inspire others with that subject matter. Sooo wanting to sell that sort of artwork.
And now I can’t.
Well, and this is me being positive after a night of not particularly feeling it. I can. I can do it, I just can’t do it through this particular place.