Finally, My Dale (Scott's Dale) had an art festival for me. I wasn't sure when it would happen but it did happen and I got to go there last weekend. I should be used to these type of honors but it still overwhelms me a bit when a whole festival is thrown in my honor. I want to thank the state of Arizona and the City of Phoenix for the honor. I hope to be picking up the royalty checks very soon. I think they're in the mail.
I really shouldn't have been surprised though.
Gosh, "they" even named a whole village after me in England. Who would have guessed?
Attenborough is a little village south of Nottingham in, of course, Nottinghamshire. That really put me on the map - literally. Been there.
Did you know "Attenborough Studio" is a real thing? It's at the Darwin Center in the Natural History Museum, London. Though, to be fair, there's a guy named David who thinks it's named after him. We'll keep that one quite - just between us for now. Yup, been there too.
As I was driving to "My Dale" Art Festival I was eager to grace them with my presence. I looked forward to being able to wave to my people. Then, as if a crushing weight fell on my head, I realized how far Scottsdale is from where I currently hang my hat in Surprise. It takes almost an hour to get there.
Why do we live in Surprise and not in Scottsdale - you say? Partly because stuff is really expensive in Scottsdale and - well - nope - that's it. It's expensive. There are a lot of other reasons but I don't want to bore you with them right now.
Scottsdale has a great "Old Town". It gets overrun with tourists this time of year or at least it was last weekend. Partly because the weather is great but it's also spring training season here in Arizona. Scottsdale Stadium hosts the San Francisco Giants. Fans were out it droves drinking, merry making, and basically whooping it up to a karaoke version of "Take Me Out To The Ball Ole Ball Game". Fans can be loud.
Nevertheless, I was there for the Art Festival.
When I go to these things I like to learn something. I look at it as gathering intelligence at a trade show. How do they do this and how do they do that. I pay particular attention to the artists, how they set up and how they sell.
There were a lot of fabulous works on display and some less fabulous. I would say all of the people exhibiting were really professional. Nothing looked amateurish or poorly executed. I did notice a lot of the same old stuff but there were some interesting new takes as well. There was high end (ish) art. Nothing even close to the $100,000 range but nothing was bargain basement priced.
There were bands playing the whole time on two different stages, the beers weren't outrageously expensive but the food was a bit more than I thought it should be.
Even though it rained while we were there (mostly an irritating drizzle), we had a good time slinking in and out of booths, commenting on this, admiring that, giggling profusely, and generally spending a wonderful Saturday afternoon in Scottsdale with friends.
I spoke to exhibiting artists about how they applied to show their work at the festival.
That's how I learned about a web app called ZAPPlication.org.
I've been playing around with the ZAPPlication website, exploring different venues to exhibit and sell artwork. There are several shows where I might be able to play show-and-sell. Who knows, I might come to a town near you! Some of the artists I met go from show to show every week selling their artwork.
I could paint during the week, sell my wares on the weekend. Doesn't sound like a bad gig to me. It would be better than working during the week and painting on the weekends.
I'm in the middle of trying to figure all this nonsense out. Hang with me, please. It's good to make meaningful progress toward a worthwhile goal. It makes me feel good.
I hope you have a wonderful project that you're working on too. I hope you have something that makes you happy and makes you feel good. It does create a bit of brightness and lightness in life.
For now, I leave you with this bright and cheery bird for the weekend.
Until next week, I wish you peace.
Life is moving faster and faster lately.
Have you seen a hummingbird while it hovers? My life seems to be whipping by faster than hummingbird wings.
When you're a kid you don't think about the amount of time you have left in this place. Right now, I'm pretty sure I've seen more days behind me than I have in front of me.
I have to face the facts. I'm giving a big wet kiss to 60 right now so I'm not even middle-aged anymore. If you're an optimist you can believe that you'll get about ninety years. My dad is going to be ninety this year. GO DAD! Mom didn't get that many years.
I love learning about new things and learning about the world in general. One way I learn is to listen to podcasts. I love podcasts. I'm not what you might call a self-improvement junkie but I like to see if I can pick up tips along the way.
I just want to know how I can be the best Scott I can be.
I was listening to Nancy Davis Kho's podcast the other day. Hi Nancy! Her podcast and blog, "Midlife Mixtape", circles music and the middle years. Nancy talks about "thriving in the years between being hip and breaking one". I love that!
Now that I've not in the middle years am I not allowed to listen to that podcast anymore? Again, my party, I'll listen if I want to. She has some great guests on her podcast. The last one I listened to involved a Chainstitch Wrangler called Kathie Sever. If you want to find out what a Chainstitch Wrangler is that a great place to find out!
I love how Nancy always asks her guests "What was the first concert you went to and when?" My first was Peter Frampton, June 14, 1975 at San Francisco's Winterland and, yes, he did play "Show me the Way" but that's a whole 'nuther story.
Fortunately, I haven't yet broken a hip. Unfortunately, I don't think I've ever been hip. I'm not quite at the finish line yet but I'm not the spry young thing I like to remember myself being.
When you look at life with the middle years in the rearview mirror, you realize there are only a certain number bullets left in your magazine but unlike the rifle-range, reloading isn't an option.
Some people measure those remaining years in the number of books that they can read, the places they can go, or myriad other things before the eyes dim and their living skills start slipping away.
I've been thinking more in terms of paintings or artworks I can see or create before all my vigor has slipped through my fingers. Picasso created more than 50,000 artworks in his life. I haven't made the calculation yet but I don't think I have time to catch up. He had a bit of a head start. I'm not giving up though.
I've been thinking about how I can maximize the years left. I worked out these five things that might help me get closer to being the best Scott I can be.
Today I'm grateful for you...
Until next week - I wish you peace.
Traveling is just not fun. I don't mind being in the places I go but the traveling is just horrendous.
This time my flight left at 1:10 am. I'm usually inspecting the insides of my eyelids about that time not getting ready for boarding.
I’ve found being prepared for the flight can make the whole experience less horrible.
This time - No big suitcases for me. I set off with only a carry-on and no checked bag.
Okay - important... Organize Carry On...
I was all set for the flight. All I had to do was point myself in the direction of the airport and engage propulsion. SuperShuttle to the rescue.
I wish somebody could explain the airline boarding system. Apparently, there's now a Group 9 on American Airlines. Group 9?! By that time all the space in the over-heads and under-seats must be taken up with chickens, turkeys and carrier pigeons. I was lucky to be in Group 5 because this plane was packed to the gunnels. God knows I was grateful not to be in Group 9. It's all so confusing.
Usually, after I sit down on the plane I try to keep my head down. I don't want to stare at the throng/thongs of backsides & elbows jostling for seats and storage space.
This flight was a bit different.
I was trying to keep my head down - really I was. I couldn’t help notice the "Children Of The Corn" romping down the aisle. I braced myself because every single one of those ankle-biters was coughing and snorting and touching everything they passed. They were touching everybody!
I’m not terribly paranoid normally.
I’ve eaten enough dirt and filth in my life to have a pretty healthy immune system. Nevertheless, there’s no need to tempt fortune by being exposed to some deadly virus in a sardine can hurtling through the atmosphere.
Isn’t that how those disaster/zombie movies always start? They all start on a plane where unwittingly patient zero gets infected by some mutant zombie virus. Hold it - Maybe I'm patient zero. Noooooo!
This time though, I pleaded the universe to keep the little germ factories away.
Please, God, Help Me!
I stared down the first of Satan's spawn with daggers coming out of my eyes emphatically pleading - "Don't touch me"! It must have worked. At the last second, the little beggar grabbed momma's coat-tail. He passed me by sucking his thumb. His gangly limbs were firmly wrapped in his own little personal space.
Then zombie apocalypse candidate number two came coughing and snorting and sneezing down the aisle. The little germ-ball was touching EVERY SINGLE SEAT with his tiny nasty fingers.
Mother was oblivious to what was going on. She paid no attention at all until, just as the heavens parted for Elija, like a whirlwind, she swooped the kid into her arms as they approached my seat.
Whew! - Number two avoided.
The last little rug rat was at least three rows ahead of me. Lucky me three times - this really is a great day.
Number three down. I'm Free!
Just then - A God Send!
I noticed the seat beside me hadn't been taken. I unconsciously caught myself chanting under my breath: "please leave that seat open, please leave that seat open… "
But it happened just as the doors were about to close. Somebody plopped down next to me. It just wasn't meant to be. No open seat next to Scotty Boy. I guess the miracles I experience only extended to zombie virus avoidance.
I didn’t get a certificate from my seatmate but he looked healthy enough. Actually, he seemed to be a nice guy. We exchanged pleasantries and started to go about our own business. I stared at my iPad - and him - I don’t think we'd even started to taxi and he was asleep. I envied him.
I'm grateful the universe loved me today.
The four and a half hours to Miami seemed to go by in a flash and my flight to St Thomas was also uneventful. It's been about a week now and I haven't manifested any sign of sickness. No zombie apocalypse virus this time.
A big thank you to whoever was smiling on me.
Today's little drawing is one that reminds me of St Thomas. Iguanas are all over the place here, even after the hurricane but that's a story for another week, maybe even next week
Until then - I wish you peace.
When you're 11 years old you wake up early on Christmas day, you just do.
Christmas was always amazing at our house. I remember being so excited on this particular Christmas because, under the tree, just beyond the hockey gear and the socks and the new pajamas, I saw it. I wasn't sure I saw it ... but I saw it.
In the run-up to Christmas, there could've been no doubt what I wanted to see under that tree. I wrote to Santa, I begged, pleaded, whimpered, and cajoled. I dropped hints and made suggestions (kids are about as subtle and a jackhammer).
Then, on Christmas morning, when I unwrapped my present, my heart soared like an F-4 Phantom with blazing afterburners going vertical. It was loud! It was spectacular! It was a brand spanking new electric guitar - AND IT WAS RED! I strapped it on, cranked it up and made my parents sorry they ever had a child.
For me, it was the best gift ever! (aside from that whiskey advent calendar I got a couple of years ago - now that was a real gem).
I had no clue what a chord was, I had no idea a note was. But, oh man, it was a rip-roarin' blast whaling on my brand new "ax". That's until blood started to trickle out of my ears, my fingers resembled freshly ground hamburger and our poor unfortunate neighbors had to summon the noise police. All's well and good until there's a court order involved.
The parental units finally gave up on the thought that I might spontaneously emerge with some sort of musical genius. Having admitted they were powerless over my horrible guitar pounding, they gave their lives over to a higher power, consulted the yellow pages and decided it was time to trade some hard earned cash for the edification of their number one son.
My guitar teacher was Mrs. Elenor Spicer. God only knows how I remember that - I just do. She was a pleasant enough muse who taught music out of her living room. Every Wednesday after school I'd hop on my bike and point my body in the direction of Mrs. Spicer's house two and a half miles away. That's way back when we still used Mr. and Mrs. to address big people.
Do you know it's hard to ride a bicycle and carry a guitar? If you're me it's really difficult.
You either have to hold the handlebars with one hand and carry the guitar in the other or ride with no hands and use both hands to carry the guitar. I can't imagine why neither my parents, my teacher nor I thought about using the guitar strap to hang the thing on my back. It would have been much easier and oh so much safer. Nobody wore a helmet back then. One wrong move and life could have been much different for me.
My parents should have known better but I think my mother liked to watch me suffer.
Perhaps that's why I have this enduring image blistered in my mind. I can see my mother laughing her @$s off watching her feeble son ride off into the sunset for his lessons. One hand holding the guitar and the other holding the handlebars, the poor kid (me) wobbled down the road like a drunkard leaving the pub at closing time.
The first song I learned was "Try a Little Kindness" by Glenn Campbell. Believe me, I was no Glenn Campbell.
I struggled to get it right. Mrs. Spicer was very kind and encouraging and everything you'd want in a guitar teacher. The problem was I didn't practice enough. Actually, I don't think I practiced at all. Why I expected to show up week after week magically improved I don't know. We are blind to our stupidity sometimes.
After a while I let it go. I didn't pick it up again until years later. In other words, I gave up. Sure, I would take it out to tickle the strings sometimes but for the most part, the guitar stayed locked up and out of mind.
Years later, I picked the guitar up again. I took lessons and practiced and eventually got better. I'll never be Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton or Jeff Beck but I've found with practice and perseverance I can put some of my shortcomings behind me.
Many beers later, a friend and I started playing music in his basement for fun. We kept at it month after month. We started to improve. One thing led to another, a few others joined us and we ended up playing some gigs together. It was so much fun. I loved it.
It's the same with painting. The more I paint the more confident I get. Eventually, I've started to see myself get better.
I hope I've learned my lesson. If you stick with something you can get better. It can open up a whole new set of opportunities.
I'm really glad I picked up painting and drawing again too. I can't wait to see where it leads. I love to do it and getting better gives me some encouragement and confidence.
You really do get some do-overs in life. It's never too late to get back in the saddle and do what you love. It makes this aging rocker and painter very happy.
What makes you happy?
What have you left it for dead on the side of the road?
Pick it up again. Dust it off - it will change your life.
I'm a guy. Really, I'm a guy but I've grown to like Valentines Day.
I am sure I don't like the commercialization of it and don't like feeling obliged to do anything. But I've grown to understand or accept Valentine's Day in a different light.
So what is Valentines Day anyway?
Is Valentine's Day just a "Hallmark Holiday"? One of those holidays designed to sell cards, candy and jewelry?
Is it a just a day men run around like little flower bearing cupids with their heads cut off seemingly trying to stay out of trouble for yet another year?
Is it a day for boosting restaurant bookings?
Is it a day for helping kids with "Be My Valentine" cards?
Is it a day for remembering Chicago Gangsters?
Is it Christian or is it Pagan?
None of those things really float the old steam barge I've become.
When somethings doesn't suit me, I reinvent it to make it's more compatible with my way of seeing things. It's a cool trick cause you can do it right between your ears.
So what is it?
For me - it's none of those things I bubbled up to the top of this post.
For me - It's a day I remember friends. It's a day that I can remember and renew relationships (my other half urges - "not THOSE kind of relationships").
For me - its a birthday. One of my very best friends from childhood was born on February 14th. When Valentines day comes along I think of him. Okay - I think of him way more than once a year. Happy Birthday Rick.
For me - I like to remember my friends and how lucky I am to actually have them. (friends that is)
I have come to realize that most people like to know they're loved. Your friends are your fans, your tribe, your people. They are the group you can count on in a jam.
Not everybody is going to be your friend but everyone is a potential friend.
Valentine's Day, in the past, has had a bad reputation as a BS holiday but I would like to turn it around and think of it in a bit of a different way. I would like to think of my friends.
That's why, today, to my friends and my potential friends, I wish you all a Happy Valentines Day and you should know that I am thinking about you.
I like to think different.
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I wish you Friendship, Love & Happiness
Did you know that you can train yourself to be at peace? Honestly, really you can. I've found that painting gives me peace and I'll tell you why.
No matter who you are, I'm know you could use a bit more peace in your life. So many traumatic things are going on in the world today. It's hard to escape the hubbub.
I do the best I can by watching minimal news and I try to make my little corner of the world as peaceful as possible.
But avoidance is not a total solution. The horrible truth is you can't avoid the hair pulling, mind numbing rancor altogether.
Challenges come along in life. The world just likes to poke you all the time.
That's a stone cold fact.
In this context I'm thinking of peace as equanimity (mental calmness, composure, and even temper) and not the opposite of war.
Equanimity is one of the The Four Sublime States in Buddhism.
The Four Sublime States are:
I just think that equanimity is a great concept and a cool word. Once you learn it you'll have trouble getting it out of your mind.
My brain is so often like a Super Ball bouncing off the walls. Do you remember Super Balls? They were really really bouncy.
When I let my mind run amok the result is not good.
What are the symptoms of my uneasy mind?
The question becomes how do I bridle the beast in the dusty attic between my ears?
You can train your mind to be peaceful
Did you know you can train your mind just like you can train a seal or a dog?
There's lots of information out there on that inter-web thingy.
It's like playing golf or it's like playing the guitar or it's like painting. You have to train yourself to get better. The more you train the better you get.
By the way - Those are three of the things that work really well for me. Those three things bring me peace and make me centered.
Why you ask?
Believe it or not those things have some of the similar attributes.
You have to engage extreme mental concentration and physical coordination at the same time. To get in what is called a flow state you have to quiet your mind and engage your body.
If you want to read more on "Flow " state try looking up Mihaly Csíkszentmihályi (pronounced: me - high - cheek - sent - me - hi). He's the guy that coined the term Flow with respect to peak performance.
At first it's pretty hard work but it gets easier over time. You learn how to quiet the mind. You learn how to coordinate the body. You learn how to get into the extreme present to maximize your performance.
I do, in fact, know that those things work for me. They keep me centered when all around me is falling apart.
Art works the very same way for me.
When I'm painting I am totally involved in the process. It allows me to be centered and helps me train my mind to be peaceful. It's almost automatic when I pick up a brush.
I want to make world a better more peaceful place to live but I don't have control over the the whole world so I'll do my best to make my little piece of the world as peaceful as possible.
Life is so much more agreeable when you have peace in your life.
What works for you?
Where do you find peace?
Comment below and let me know where your peace comes from. I'd love to know.
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I hope I hear from you.
I wish you Peace.
I've got a little secret...
After clearing the cobwebs from my eyes this morning, I started thinking about what I might write this week
I thought of a secret I've had tucked away.
This vexing secret has had safe harbor in my mind for years. It's keenly tucked away in the nether-reaches of my gray matter.
When it does come up in a conversation, I toss it off as if it were a joke or some pesky piece of fluff that's easily brushed off my collar.
It's always been a dream of mine.
I can't really deny it.
It's a bit humbling.
I'm really self conscious about it.
Okay - it's not such a big a secret - I think I'll tell anyone who will listen. I getting older now so I've probably told the same people more than once.
This is my secret:
I want to use art work to put food on my table.
Somehow, I let that little artist dream live in my head for years without escaping. I'm a very good jailor or maybe it's those pit bulls the live in my brain. Nevertheless, I'd draw here and paint there but wouldn't step out of my comfort zone.
I wouldn't show my work. Because, well, I was scared. I didn't want people to tell me I was horrible. What if it didn't work.
Though I do spend a lot of time drawing and painting, I can say, with fairly good authority, if I tried to survive solely on the sales of my artwork today, I might have some problems maintaining a viable heartbeat. My brain would have to develop send excuses to my stomach explaining the lack of sustenance. Given my art sales record, it would be really hard to put food on the table at this point.
A guy called Bill Earle once said,
"If your outgo exceeds your income, then your upkeep will be you downfall."
Of course, Charles Dickens nailed it too when he said:
"Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen [pounds]
nineteen [shillings] and six [pence], result happiness. Annual income
twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six,
result misery." - Wilkins Micawber - David Copperfield
I do sell the occasional painting or drawing and I am really grateful for that. You know who you are... ;-)
I just want to get that darn dream out of my head and give it a solid place in the physical world.
So, I'll be studying up and working on learning the business of art. It's not enough to just be good at making pretty things. You have to know who your customers are, make sales and market your stuff. I'm going to work on those.
If you have any suggestions let me know.
I'll let you know what I learn too. Cause - I know you're interested. ;-)
Is there a a secret you want to sneak out past behind those bull dogs in your mind?
Do you want o write a book, create a business, run a marathon or paint a masterpiece?
I'd love to know what your dream is.
In the mean time I'll continue to create new stuff (cause that's what I do) - this one started in my sketch book. Then I translated it to a digital drawing and colored it in.
Here's the process:
Wish me luck!
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If you like the stuff I do you can recommend it to others.
If you like what I make let me know.
This is my very first oil painting. Yup, my very first oil painting ever.
I painted this in 2012.
I was sitting out on the porch and night after night the sunsets were stunning. I couldn't help it, I was and am in awe of the colors lighting up the sky. I still get a bit choked up at a sunrise or a sunset. I guess I'm a big softie.
Lots of mornings, on the island, I would get up before dawn to go for a walk just to see the sunrise. I love to see the sun as it comes up over the distant blue horizon. I also love to catch the sun as it goes down.
This painting is from a sunset photo I took in St Thomas. We first moved down there in 2012.
So why did I wait until I was 54 years old to get up the nerve to try an oil painting. Well, I could probably fill a book with reasons.
It just boils down to - Getting started is so very hard.
Once you're in the groove, you've got the habit and it's not as tough but I've found it's way to easy to put things off.
Why do we put things off?
Why is it so hard to get started?
Maybe you don't get started because of fear or timidity or time. It could be you lack gumption because you lack money or lack talent or lack vision.
Yeah - I've used those too.
You could use any number of excuses to rationalize. I think I keep a handful of excuses in my back pocket. I try not to take them out any more though - they're habit forming and they'll kill you.
What's more important to me is the solution,
What's more important is doing stuff.
If you make excuses other things will take priority.
Right now, I think posting this blog regularly is important for me.
Why is it important? I want to get better at writing and painting and drawing. I use this practice to make sure I get the work done. I use it to make sure I don't slack off.
I'm making myself accountable to the world by promising to write something every week. I'm convinced you only get better by sharing your work. So I'm sharing.
You've got to be a bit brave.
This whole thing is an exercise in growth and getting better.
Believe me, I'd rather hide. I'd much rather do this whole drawing thing in private.
But, you see, in private I'll lie to myself. I'm good at at making excuses and lying to myself. I've had lot's of practice.
It is about me in a way but by sharing it can be about you too.
Maybe somebody who reads this will get motivated to start playing the guitar or painting or writing or it just might help somebody else find out what they're all about.
Because we're all the same you and me.
You see, it's about me, but it's about you too.
It, for me, is all about sharing and trying to be a better human.
So - here's to being a better human! Happy sunsets to you.
Exploring new places is a wonderful thing. I totally enjoy it when I get the chance.
It's not so much the travel I enjoy. Travel, in and of itself, can be a red hot steaming, miserable, hair yanking face scrunching mess. This time it wasn't bad at all. The flights went off without a hitch although coming into Funchal had more than it's fair share of bumpity-thumpities.
One of the rituals I enjoy the least about flying is deplaning. It is that time when the flight and cabin crew stand at the door saying "having a nice day" or "enjoy your holiday". That's what they're saying but I have a feeling it's not what they really mean.
As we left the plane I thanked the captain for his safe landing. I said, "Thanks for the ride cowboy!". I'm glad he took it in stride. It even got a bit of a chuckle. We did get down safely. I suppose that's all that counts. I was truly grateful be on the ground without any injuries.
Madeira is a tiny(ish) island in the Atlantic 425 miles off the coast of Morocco. It's apparently a favorite holiday spot for Europeans. The island had over one million visitors last year. We heard several European languages in addition to Portuguese (Madeira is a territory of Portugal). We heard German, French, Norwegian and Russian spoken there. (Oh yeah - we heard English too)
The people we met were very friendly and helpful.
Our holiday was filled with mountain walks some even above the clouds, a steep and swingy cable car ride, pebbly beach walks and strolls along a beautifully maintained promenade by the sea.
In downtown Funchal, there is a street called Rua de Santa Maria not far from the big cruise ship harbor. The doors on this street have been given over to artists. The art work ranges from the beautifully skilled and well thought out to the not so beautiful. I can say truthfully that it was all very interesting and increased the vibrancy and good feeling of the old town area.
A local waiter told me the door painting began as the result of a flood some time in the past and the doors occasionally get painted over with new art. Kinda makes you want to come back and see what's new occasionally. I don't remember the whole story. I suppose I didn't pay enough attention.
Apparently I did have the presence of mind to snap a bunch of photos as I gawked like everybody else walking down the street. You just can't help it. At least I can't help it. I loved the feel of street art on Rua de Santa Maria .
For me, it was one of the highlights of my trip. Thats where little poster of the painted doors of Funchal was born. There are over 200 doors painted. I only captured some of what was there. The diversity of the art was heartwarming.
It's now the screensaver on my phone.
What do I know? Well - I know what I like - and I liked this.
BTW - you can enlarge the photo by clicking on it.
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Until then, please do your best to enjoy life.
Last year, as far as years go, was pretty good. There were some hiccups along the way but I think, in general, the year went very positive.
A lot happened in 2017. Dad moved into a senior living facility and we moved to Phoenix to be closer. My plan is to be closer so I can take care of issues as they happen.
We're still trying to get our stuff from St Thomas. That might take a while.
The hurricane has kept us away from the island. Our plans for spending time there are up in the air.
A lot is happening in Phoenix and it's keeping me occupied.
In February last year I started writing this blog and I started creating drawings on my iPad. That has really pleased me. The encouragement I get is amazing.
I am 10 pounds lighter than I was last year at this time. I have been going to the gym regularly since October. I enjoy that and I feel much better for doing it. I hope to drop a ton or two this year.
Art marketing is a tough nut to crack. I'll continue to create digital as well as physical artworks.
I want to learn how to generate an income from my work. There are bunches of options and there is so much that I don't understand. It might help to try different things and see how they work.
The business of selling and making a living with art is a tricky on. I hope to tell you what works for me and what doesn't. Everybody is different and I hope to learn from people who know what they're doing. (I don't know who that is though)
Right now I'm taking some time to myself and let my hair down a little bit.
I hope you make the new year your best year yet.
I'm going to give it my best shot.