Search

so i did the math months later and that's like $18/hr before materials. and she was the one who suggested the price, i just nodded. i knew it was low but i didn't wanna be the guy who haggles with a friend. now every time i look at that painting i just see $18/hour staring back at me. i don't even know what i'd have said if i had to name it. 500? 800? feels fake to ask for that. but 200 also feels fake for 11 hours. so i'm stuck in the middle where both numbers feel wrong and i just don't talk about money with anyone i know personally anymore lol

got a bottle of golden fluid raw umber that's been slowly solidifying in the corner of my shelf for like a year and a half. it's not fully hard yet but it's got that thick yogurt consistency where you shake it and nothing moves. i know the official answer is throw it out but i paid like $12 for this and i can still see pigment in there. part of me wants to cut the bottle open with a knife and use it like a paint cake. part of me knows that's insane. has anyone actually done this or do we all just pretend we toss them and secretly keep a graveyard of half-dead paint bottles under the sink

A gallery contacted me last year, really interested, came to the studio, said all the right things about the work. Then the email: "Would you consider working in acrylic instead of oil? It would ship easier and sell better." I said no. Maybe that was stupid. But oil is what I do, the way it moves, the drying time, the glazing, it's not a preference, it's the whole practice. I don't know how to say what I want to say in acrylic. Has a gallery ever asked you to change your materials or your style to fit them? Did you bend or did you walk? I'm curious where the line is for other people.

I had a booth at a local craft fair Saturday and a woman picked up one of my acrylic landscapes, looked at it for a good minute, and said "oh this is nice, I could probably do this with my daughter's $5 watercolor set." And I just stood there like... okay. So do it then? I'd love to see you mix titanium white into a puddle of Crayola paint and get that kind of coverage on canvas. Please. Film it. I didn't say any of that of course. I smiled and said "you should give it a try, it's really relaxing!" and she moved on. My husband said I was too nice and I probably was but also what's the point. People who think art supplies are all the same are not people you're going to convince in one conversation at a folding table. Still felt like packing up my easel and going home though.

Spent a good chunk of yesterday afternoon reorganizing all my acrylics by color family instead of the chaotic system of "whatever shelf had room." Looked so satisfying. Took a picture. Felt very accomplished. Today I needed my raw umber and I stood there for a solid 30 seconds staring at this neat rainbow of bottles like I'd never seen paint before in my life. Could have grabbed it in 2 seconds from the old pile. My 8 year old said "so you made it worse" and honestly she might be right. Anyone else's attempts at organization backfire this badly or is it just me?

I had this little study going, just a corner of my desk with the morning light hitting a ceramic bowl, nothing ambitious, and it was genuinely working. The washes were doing exactly what I wanted, the edges were soft where they should be soft, I was so pleased with myself. And then I started "fixing" things. Just tiny little adjustments. A little more shadow here, a little more definition there. Twenty minutes later I had a muddy overworked mess and I just sat there staring at it like why do I do this to myself every single time. Watercolor is so unforgiving about that specific impulse. Oil you can scrape back, acrylic you can paint over, gouache you can reactivate if you're careful. But watercolor just sits there and lets you ruin it and you watch yourself do it in real time. I know the solution is to just stop. Walk away. Start something else. But man, the compulsion to keep noodling is so strong when something is almost there. Almost there feels worse than not even close, somehow. Anyway I started fresh and the second one is fine but not as good as the first one was before I killed it. Just needed to yell into the void about this specific flavor of artist self-sabotage. Does anyone else have a version of this or is it just me and my inability to leave well enough alone

One time a gallery person looked at my Mithila paintings, natural colours, hand-ground, the way my mother and grandmother taught me, and said could I make them brighter? More modern? Like acrylic maybe. I was standing there holding a brush and I did not know what to say ji. I thought about it for many days. In the end I did not change. But I have wondered since if I was foolish. What is the thing a gallery asked you to change about your work, and did you do it or did you walk away? I am asking because I still think about this sometimes.

i brought in a 30x40 acrylic for a commission frame job and the guy behind the counter goes "oh nice, decorative" with this little smirk. like yeah dude that's one of the functions of art. i hang it on walls. it's visually pleasing. do you want me to be miserable every time i look at it or what. i should've said something but i just did the customer service grimace smile and said "yep that's me" and now i'm mad about it in retrospect which is worse. if you're gonna be a framing shop art critic at least have the spine for me to argue back while we're both standing there.

not a sketchbook, not a journal. it's a cardboard box under my worktable. failed experiments, pieces i started and hated halfway through, collages that just wouldn't lay right. things i cut up and tried to save and made worse. i told myself i was keeping them to learn from. but honestly i think i just can't throw them away. they're like artifacts of a version of me that was trying something and missed. feels wrong to trash that. pulled one out today. a painting i abandoned last february. thick muddy acrylics, wrong composition, everything fighting everything. i scraped at it with a palette knife for a while and something actually started to happen. might not save it but it's not dead yet either. anyone else keep the ugly ones around?

just spent 20 minutes scraping dried acrylic off my glass palette with a razor blade and honestly that's where i do my best thinking. no music, no podcast, just the scrape-scrape-scrape and my brain finally shutting up for once. i used to be precious about cleaning between sessions. thought it meant i was organized. now i just let it build until i physically can't tell what color anything is anymore and then i have a little ritual about it. feels like progress even when nothing else is. anyway my palette currently looks like a dried blood splatter exhibit. very on brand for the colors i'm using rn lol

everyone's got their fancy stay-wet palettes and i'm over here scraping bone-dry acrylic crust off this little board with a palette knife like i'm archeology-ing my own bad decisions. the texture is genuinely insane at this point, there's like seven layers of dried paint built up with actual craters where i gouged out a chunk of ultramarine mid-painting. i know i should just sand it down or toss it but honestly i'm attached. it's like a little topographical map of every piece i've made since january. you can see the exact week i went through a burnt umber phase. tell me you also have a cursed palette you refuse to retire

Working on this collage for about three weeks now, layered paper and acrylic on board. It's about the house I grew up in, which I've been avoiding making work about for years because it felt too obvious. But I'm stuck at that stage where I can't tell if it's actually done or if I've just stared at it so long I've gone blind to it. The thing is, there's this one torn scrap of a photograph I embedded near the bottom right, my brother's hand, actually, from an old birthday photo, and every time I look at it I think it's either the whole reason the piece works or it's a sentimental crutch I should've painted over two weeks ago. I don't trust my own eyes on it anymore. Anyone else get to that point where you can't tell the difference between "it's finished" and "I'm just tired of this conversation"?

ngl i bought this expensive palette knife bc it looked cool and the reviews said it was good for thick paint application. it arrived today and it's basically a tiny metal spatula. like, i could probably flip a pancake with it. it works fine for slapping on acrylic but i'm also kind of offended? lol. anyone else ever feel like their fancy art tools are just... regular tools in disguise?

Just finished my first ever commission. It was a portrait of a golden retriever for a friend's mom. It took me about three weeks, on and off, because I'm still so slow with acrylics and I kept second-guessing myself. But I finally got the eyes right yesterday and it just clicked. She's coming to pick it up tomorrow and I'm honestly a little nervous but mostly excited. It's not perfect, but it's the best thing I've painted so far. Feels good!