So, to continue quickly, I started selling my paintings before I'd even finished my first 10. I was so happy and optimistic for me and my new career as an artist. A self-taught artist. By the time I had 100 paintings under my belt I'd participated in numerous outdoor shows and markets. It was very time consuming, costly, and I am quite shy in public and not at all a salesperson. I lack confidence and even though I was selling some work and getting a lot of good feedback from people I was very scared and insecure and those are not good traits to have when trying to sell art or anything I guess. I was too fumbly and when someone was interested I would practically talk them out of it. I also priced my work very low - too low. I gave myself and my art very little value. But I never quit. I was working part time in a grocery store and raising my kids and plugging away at my dysfunctional marriage. I'd sell something here and there. I had two or three very loyal clients who, from the start, purchased a painting or two each year (and still do) and then I'd go out and get enough stuff to keep me busy for a while. I have to drive an hour to get to the store where I buy supplies so it's good to make it worth while. Then, in 2005, I was completely inspired to write a novel. My two younger kids, who were 5 and 9 at the time, liked me to tell them a story at bedtime and it had to be a different story each night. Talk about a workout in creativity. I know for a fact that I told them a new story every night for a year before I couldn't do it anymore, I had to refuse because my mind went blank at that point (I think I was just too tired) but one particular story grabbed them and me and what started out as an idea for a kids picture book turned into a suspenseful young adult novel. It took me about 6 months to write, including edits and rewrites, and then I gave copies to 10 people, age 9 to 75, and I got pretty good responses from all. I then spent a great deal of time researching and writing to literary agents and publishers, some times waiting up to 9 months for a rejection.
I continued to paint and was onto a new level with my art. A friend gave me the main sail from a boat he'd bought and I started to stretch large pieces of sail cloth over stretcher bars I made myself. These were 5'x6' and larger and I was once again in utter bliss. At least as far as my art was concerned because all the other issues were still constant. These huge paintings sold. In fact I don't have any left. They sold for decent amounts of money too, as far as I was concerned. Well under $1000 but hundreds more than I had gotten for anything else. Then I ran out of the sail cloth and it was too expensive to buy. So I was back to scrounging for money to buy canvas.
In 2006 we sold our waterfront house and bought a hobby farm. A big, old farmhouse and 5 acres with a horse and a duck already on the property. I thought my life would instantly be wonderful. My husband was working out of town and was only home on the weekends. The kids and I were so happy and relaxed though the week and then on the weekends we would tip toe and whisper and wait for Monday morning to come around so grumpy Dad would leave again for 5 days. In our defense it wasn't like he was having a bad time either, being away from us. He lived on his own and spent his evenings at a pub with his pals. He ate and drank and behaved like a single man. Which was why he was so grumpy at home; he wasn't used to being around kids and home was a reminder of how much money he was dishing out for a house he wasn't living in. But he was spending a lot of money on himself too. More money on himself in a week than I did for food and gas for the kids and I in two weeks or more. We should have done something at this point or earlier, probably before we bought this big house and property because it soon became too much. Too much for me to look after by myself and too much for him to pay for. He wasn't really making much money because he had started his own company and I wasn't making much, just selling the odd painting here and there. I couldn't find a publisher for my novel and I was becoming very depressed. I drowned my sorrows in wine, gained a lot of weight, and was pretty much miserable with every aspect of my life. My self esteem dropped even further. This carried on for three years then he couldn't live away any longer and when he came home for good, it soon became clear to me that I as shitty as life was, it was better when he wasn't around. I moved into our youngest son's room to sleep, hoping he'd get the message. I quit drinking wine (and anything else) and was working on my second novel, for adults this time, romantic/suspense. I was painting very little and completely focused on my writing while the kids were at school and I finished the manuscript in May. By June, 8 months had gone by since he'd moved home. We were arguing more than ever. He complained chronically about everything I did or the kids did. I was still sleeping in our son's room and I was going crazy wishing he'd just dump me. Our entire marriage had been rocky - I'd tried to leave him twice before, but he'd managed to talk me out of it - but it was obvious, at least to me, that neither of us were happy. Then, the day before our 18th anniversary, I came out and told him that I didn't want to be married any more. He was shocked. He was floored. And he couldn't understand that I wasn't leaving him for another man. He couldn't understand that I just wanted out! That was June of 2009 and here we are January of 2010 and not much has changed. At least not the living arrangements. He couldn't afford to move out and the house is taking awhile to sell. Had I been more successful or more confident or maybe a little smarter, the situation could be different. I was told that when you make a commitment in your life, that the universe steps in and automatically provides for you or sets up the necessary elements for what you want to start happening. I also thought, through my many years of studying the law of attraction (spending money on books and courses instead of on canvas and paint) that when you discover your true purpose in life, you will be successful with whatever it is. Or, at the least, you should be able to earn a living doing it. It should all flow. If creating art and writing novels aren't my true purpose well...I don't know what is. It's all I think about.
The other day my daughter, who is only 13 years old, reminded me that in order for anything to manifest, many things need to be aligned and that maybe there are just a few more things that need to line up for me to have the success and prosperity and happiness I desire. What a sweetie!
And so...this blog, this art challenge, this record of the first year in my 40's, the year I will become an independent (single) woman, and the effect all of this change has on my art, is, in fact, a distraction. Maybe everything that still must align will have a chance to align now that I am focusing on something else, something positive and creative. Maybe what I write will help someone else in a similar situation or maybe not. Maybe it's just therapy for me. Whatever, I am doing this.




The other night I couldn't sleep and I tried to calculate approximately how many paintings I've done in the past 10 years. I think about 200 at least. I still own 50 of them in my own collection and I have 7 paintings out in