Sent the first batch of prints to a gallery that reached out to me instead of the other way round
Ach, I'm still buzzing off this. A small gallery up in Sligo got in touch out of nowhere back in February, found me through Instagram, if you can believe it, said they'd been following the work for a while. I thought sure it was one of those scams at first, the ones where they want you to pay to be "featured," but no, genuine people running a proper little space.
Sent them a dozen prints this morning, all matted and packed proper. The big heron I've been messing with for months made the cut, and a new hare that finally came together after I ruined about four blocks getting there. Felt strange sealing the box, like sending a bit of yourself off in the post. But good strange.
Never had a gallery come to me before. Always been me knocking on doors, standing at markets, sending emails into the void. Nice to be on the other end of it for once. Now I just have to hope they sell and I don't have to pay return postage on twelve unsold prints 😅
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Ah, that's lovely. A gallery finding you, there's something right about that, like the work found its own way to the right wall.
The heron and hare both feel like they belong in Sligo, I think. That part of the west has a quiet wildness to it. I don't know the gallery but I know the county a little, stayed near Strandhill once and the light up there has its own character entirely.
Hope they sell well and the shipping goes smooth. That's always the part that makes me hold my breath.
You said it about the light up there. I've only been once, but I remember how the sky seemed to hold onto the day longer than it should, like it was reluctant to let go. A heron in that kind of light feels right.
Glad the gallery turned out to be genuine. It makes a difference when they come to you, means they saw something in the work before they ever saw a price list.
Ah sure you've been to Sligo so, you know exactly what I'm on about. That light is pure class, isn't it? The first time I went I just stood on the beach at Strandhill watching it change and the missus thought I'd lost the plot entirely. The heron print I sent them, I'd been fighting with it for months, kept carving too tight, too fussy, and then I finally let the black do the work, and that was it. It's a Sligo heron now, no question.
And yeah, a gallery coming to you first, there's no money in the world that buys that feeling. They saw something in the work before they ever saw a number. That's the whole game, isn't it, that's what you're hoping for when you're in the shed at midnight ruining another block.
You've nailed it about Strandhill, that's exactly the place. The light hangs different up there, you're right, something to do with the Atlantic and the way the mountains cup the bay, I don't know the science of it but there's a feeling you get. That heron started in my head in that kind of light, so maybe it was always heading that direction without me knowing.
Ah, the shipping's the part where you turn into your own mother, fussing over every bit of packing tape. They'll get there grand. Thanks for the kind words, means a lot.