ennui go

The dictionary describes ennui thusly:"Listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom"

I like this word, There is something whimsical about the spelling of it, the sound of it. I mean, who makes a word like this?  But I don't like feeling it. And I was feeling it.

Not sure why, but I do think it happens this time of year pretty regularly. It's probably a combination of let down after a busy show season and the holidays and the gray/black/white landscape that never changes. My instinct is to hunker down into my hoodie and read beach novels. But we know that cannot happen. It is app season, for one thing, and there is much work to do.

Yesterday I had a lovely exchange with a man who ordered a special collage to go into an antique frame he bought at a flea market. He brought the frame to me at the Mayday show in November and I told him I wouldn't be able to get to it until after the holidays. He is a very sweet guy. Warm and funny and energetic. The frame is a beauty and I will confess that I thought it far too special for my little collage.

I brought the frame to my wholesaler and he priced the cost to frame it. I called the man, told him the price for the frame and shipping and what I would charge for the artwork, He said it all sounded fine except for the price.

He thought it was too low and he insisted on paying both of us more. Yep, read that sentence again.

This does not happen. He said he believed people should be paid properly for their work. I stammered a bit but I knew that this is really what he wanted to do. Wait till I tell the framer. He won't believe it either.

It is hard to price artwork. You can't really charge for time. Art is not hourly labor. You can't charge for supplies or painters would be selling their work for 20 bucks. Charge for talent? What is the going rate? So, we try to determine worth at a fair price and often fall short. It is an industry hazard. You need to be really gutsy to charge more for something than you would be able to pay yourself. Most artists, contrary to public opinion, are really not wealthy people. There are some who "rake it in". I am not one of them and I don't know many who are. One of the first pieces of advice I got when I started in this business was to not set prices based on my own pocketbook. Which is a good thing because I would be giving things away.

The response to my prices is all over the place. Some say it is expensive (while holding a 20 dollar bag of kettle corn), many compliment me on how reasonable the prices are. I ponder and debate pricing constantly. It was such a boost to be told I was worth more than I dared to think.

So, my nice man in Rochester seems to have popped this bubble of ennui that was holding me down. For a while there it was a chore to climb the stairs into my attic studio. I felt like I had sand bags on my ankles. Then I would get there, sit in my swivel chair, turn on the TV and maybe get in 20 minutes of work before I found a reason to go back downstairs.

Now it feels as if the sun came out. It is not the money. It is the affirmation that came from being told I was worth more than I thought. This small gesture of appreciation has wiped out the feeling of gloom I had after my last 2, disastrous, holiday shows. I have been encouraged to follow my instinct and focus more on collage work. It's all good after all.

I'm looking forward to a productive day in the attic tomorrow.

Maybe the cure for ennui is promise, described in the dictionary as:

" Indication of something favorable to come; expectation"

I hate this but I am going to do it anyway

Assessing the year about to pass. I hate it. I think I hate it mostly because of the endless parade, on TV and in print, of people who died this year. And the resolutions. Ack! The endless resolutions to be thinner, richer, kinder, smarter come the new year.

But my business is seasonal which makes my life seasonal. From January to March I have time to be still, to think and reassess. April to August is Summer show time.  September we travel. From October to late December there is a mini-show boom where I try to recoup the money I spent traveling and gather some money for Christmas. Then it rewinds and begins again.

I have been bitching about the application process for art shows every Winter since I started blogging. I will not bore you again. But this year, along with the usual grumpiness comes an awareness that I need to walk away from some favorite shows and risk rejection by trying new ones.

It isn't easy to walk away from shows you have done for a long time. There is something sweet about "coming home" to a venue every year. You know the drill, you know the people. You know where to eat, where the restrooms are, where the best parking is. New shows are exciting but they are...new. You don't know what will sell at a new show or even if the customer base of this show will like you.

This year I am dropping one show for sure and another probably. I will apply to two new shows that will most likely reject me and one that has accepted me in the past but I declined in favor of a local show.

I'm reassessing my work, too, and getting deeper into collage, making books my sideline instead of my go-to.

All of this makes me a bit uneasy. Which is good, I think. Better to live on the edge than in a rut, right?

The deadline for the show I am dropping is Monday. It will be hard to let that date whoosh by. I can do this. Onward. Upward, Sideways, whatever.

This life ain't for sissies.