When Create, Elate, Satiate Turns To Hate

I took one drawing class in high school. My favorite piece was Chief Joseph. The class ended as did my drawing, but I moved Joseph with me from apartment to apartment for years, eventually framing him.

Then suddenly, at least a decade later, on a whim I purchased charcoal pencils, a pad of paper, and began drawing again.

I mainly drew animals wolves, eagles, horses, cougars -- icons of freedom -- as well as dogs and cats. I loved the way I saw as I created. Each line in the fur, the shape of the eyes, mouth, ears, the way that each line added spirit and personality to the paper. I felt that for the first time I was really seeing the animal -- even my own pets. I was connecting with them in a way I never had before. And I felt somehow, they were feeling the same thing... It was if each line, correctly spaced, shaded, and sized infused the paper with the soul of 'who' I was drawing and that the soul liked it.

Drawing became my nightly therapy. Sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, bent over the pad of paper, I would look at photos and draw until I was finished. "Finished" wasn't until a piece was done, but until I was exhausted emotionally; no longer feeling driven to capture all the lines... all the souls.

One piece might take me 20 minutes. Another, the same size, a similar animal, might take me 2 hours. Some nights, just getting started, getting into the zone of seeing and producing it on paper could take 3 hours. I never knew. Eventually I created some portraits of people. With the same results: see, connect, create. I might be up all night long, but I never tired of finding that zone. Create, elate, satiate.

I gradually grew into the idea of even showing them to someone... the reactions were kind. Often I would hear 'Why aren't you making money at this?' I would blush & stammer that I was just fooling around & they were kind enough not to laugh at me. But eventually I made a few portraits as gifts. Once I pleased some folks with this I decided to take the plunge -- I decided to sell some. Why not be an artist, I thought... why not indeed.

Lesson One: When you draw what you want, you must wait for the right buyer.

While plenty of folks admired & complimented me on my work, my abilities (she blushes to even say so), nary a one made a purchase. That part was OK. I could accept that. Respect that. But then there were 'the others.' The ones who would make snide comments about 'how they could do that.' Ever the professional, I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from handing them a pad & pencil and saying, "By all means, please do so." It's difficult to not take comments personally -- So much of yourself is 'in' the work, that it's darn near like having someone criticize your kids.

But more annoying than rude persons where the ones who would whine and complain about price. Oh, how they loved your work! Oh my wasn't the matting & framing lovely! An original, not a print -- they could own the only one?! Oh how lovely! But $90? That's too much. Hey, listen buddy, there's $60 in that framing alone; please don't devalue my work by saying that for 20 minutes you've been oohing & ahhing over it, you don't think it's worth $30. I offered them the inexpensive option of lithographed notecards. "No," they whined, "I want, really really want, the original art."

Eventually, they'd leave. Maybe even come back one more time, making an offer of $30 for the framed piece... But they'd always stop in on their way out and again bemoan their inability to afford my 'great work.' This as they are carrying $100 of 'handmade' beanie baby sleeping blankets, refrigerator magnets, tube socks with yarn detailing, a string with beads with matching earrings, and wooden garden signs painted with birdhouse motifs.

They literally had the money, but thought this other work was more 'worth the investment.' So insulting.

I just smiled and nodded -- and went home to my art therapy to get over their bad energy.

Lesson Two: The right buyer isn't just the one who pays.

So I decided to try commission work; I placed an ad the classifieds and announced pet portraits from a photo. Prices were based on size, and if they wanted pastels for color shading, it bumped the price up a tad. My phone rang endlessly. I explained how I could draw Fido as he appeared, removing the pile of poo next to him in the photo; how I could compensatate for a poor camera angle which made his nose seem to be 75% of his body weight; I could even change positions and put a dog photographed in a sitting postion into the classic bird dog point. Eventually I had a gig.

I secretly met with a woman who wanted a piece for her husband's birthday. I was to create one portrait of two dogs from two different photos. One of the photos was a general one of the breed, but I'd come visit her in one week to see the real dog and get the dog's individual spaniel spotting to add to the portrait. It was a larger portrait, charcoal only, unframed and the price was $75.

So in one week, I met at her home. I showed her my sketch: the larger retriever dog standing, with the smaller spaniel at his side. She freaked. She wanted the dogs facing away from eachother, morphing, one to another, like a Rick Cain piece. Sure, this works in sculpture (like Cain's "Fire & Ice", which I in fact own), but I explained that drawn, this would in fact look like a two-headed dog... But she insisted. Ugh. I did my best to remain professional. I quickly marked on the existing sketch the spotting of the spaniel, and left. That night, I began work on the new version.

The next day she calls to inquire about adding the pastel coloring to match the dogs. I agree to include it for only $10 extra just to get on with things. Now I only have 5 days before his birthday, so 4 to create in. (It may sound like lots of time, but there is more pressure in creating to please someone else. And I had the rest of life to cope with as well as a few other new portrait customers to meet and deal with as well.) Two days before his birthday, I finish and call to meet with her early to get approval (cuz she was hinky, I knew I'd better.) I show her the two-headed dog and she finally understands how stupid it looks. But now I have 2 days to change it.

I got back to the original sketch, and that night I finish it up. I spray it with sealer, and I put it away to cure wrinkle free. I wash up my hands and the phone rings. It's her again, will I please get a frame for it because now that we are meeting on the day of his birthday, she won't have time. I explain to her that I cannot without changing the price... she agrees that if I bring the framing receipt, she will reimburse me -- but to stay at or under $20. Gee, that means an off the rack frame, in 'oak' for that price? I tell her I will try, but cannot guarantee anything at this date or that price.

I visit 3 frame shops and finally find a wooden frame that will fit for $35. I decide she'll need to deal. So the next day, his birthday, another covert mission to deliver the finished and framed piece. I have to meet her at her office (a 20 minute drive into the city at rushhour) to exchange the portrait for compensation. She agrees to the frame price, writes me a check for all she owes and shoos me aside so she can get home to surprise him. Not a single thank you for all my trouble.

I did have some other portrait work that was not so damn complicated, but those simply didn't make up for this experience. I decided to end this bullshit.

So I finished those protraits and I just quit drawing. Not just for pay, but drawing itself for a year. Perhaps not coincidentally, it was about this time that I became a real smoker instead of a social one.

Eventually I would return to drawing. But it was never the same. I did a portrait of my niece when she was barely a month old. A few other personal pieces. But gone were the nights of feverish sketching. Gone were any ideas of being an artist, let alone for any pay. The money I do not miss. Nor the shows and their endless stream of judgemental persons with no care to treat an artist with any dignity or human kindness. Nor the cheap and demanding folks who quibble and yet demand.

But I do miss the sweet ache in my back from hours of holding that stupid postion (crosslegged in bed holding the pad with one hand & drawing with the other) and joy at having completed my mission... of connection, vision and creation... inception, conception and delivery. The combination of completion, exhaustion and elation created a contentment within me that rivals post-orgasm. That I do miss.