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Was picking up a new tube of titanium white today and this older gentleman starts chatting me up at the counter. I mentioned I paint in acrylic and he got this look on his face like I'd told him I color with crayons. Said, and I quote, "acrylic is a shortcut, you can just paint over anything and start again. Oil is real painting, watercolor is real painting. You can't hide in those." And I just stood there holding my six dollar tube of paint like a child who got scolded at school. I should have said something. I've been painting for six years, I sell the odd piece, I put in real hours. But I just nodded and paid and left. Here's the thing though. The "you can fix mistakes" argument gets me every time because it makes it sound like the fixing is free. Like I haven't spent whole evenings scraping off a sky that refused to work or layering the same green seven ways until it finally looked like grass instead of swamp. Fixing a mistake in acrylic is still two hours of work, it just doesn't require a respirator and a month of drying time. Anyway. I don't know why this one got to me. Maybe because I'm tired. Maybe because I've heard some version of it a dozen times and it never gets less annoying. My painting is mine and it doesn't need a gatekeeper's blessing. But man, I wish I'd said something smarter than standing there with my mouth shut.

I had a gallery once that liked my work but wanted me to switch to acrylic, paint bigger, and make everything "more abstract." Basically be a different artist. I said no, then spent three months wondering if I was stupid for it. Anyone else get the "we love it but can you change everything" talk? Did you bend or stand your ground?

So I finally worked up the nerve and walked into a small local gallery on a Saturday, one of those places with the good light and a woman at a desk who does not look up right away. I had maybe 8 decent photos on my phone and a half-finished thought. She was nice actually. But I stood there scrolling while she waited and I could not stop thinking, this looks so unprofessional, I should have printed something. What do you all do? Actual portfolio book, tablet, or just hand over your phone? I paint acrylics, mostly landscapes, and honestly my phone photos of them are not great either so that's a whole other problem. Someone tell me the phone thing is normal and I'll sleep tonight 🙂

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

so i did this thing a few months ago where a neighborhood coffee shop asked for four 24x36 acrylic pieces. walls are big, they wanted "something colorful," easy brief. i quoted $400 for all four because i'm an idiot and thought "bulk discount" like i'm selling socks. $100 per painting. that's like $2.60 an hour if you count the sketching and the repainting and the repainting again because acrylic dries fast and i hate myself. finally deliver them. they're thrilled. two weeks later i walk in for coffee and they've framed them in these cheap black frames from michael's. completely covering the edges. i paint the edges. that's like. a thing i do. the sides are part of it. they just. framed over them. i didn't say anything. i drank my latte and left. still haven't said anything. $400 and my edges are in framing jail forever.

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?

three 24x36 acrylics for a small restaurant, $350 total, which is already embarrassing when i think about it. they loved them. framed them nice, hung them where people actually see them. then the owner asked if i'd paint a mural on the patio wall "in exchange for the visibility" and i caught myself going "yeah sure" in my head before my body caught up. visibility doesn't pay my rent, karen. it pays in likes from people who will also want a discount. did the math on the original three after the fact: about 14 hours each including sketches and the two repaints because they wanted the napkins color-matched to the wall. so $8.33 an hour. an hour. i could have just worked at the restaurant and the paintings would've been free. i said yes to the mural anyway. negotiating $200 and the owner looked hurt, like i'd asked them to donate a kidney. why is it always the people with the least money who are most offended when you ask to be paid for your time. i don't know if this is a pricing vent or a confession but it's both. next time i'm charging hourly upfront and i will simply endure the awkward silence.

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.

everyone keeps telling me to get one of those stay-wet palettes. no. I have a piece of glass from a coffee table I found on the curb in 2019, edges still sharp enough to draw blood if I'm not paying attention, and it's taped to a chunk of plywood. the paint dries on it. that's the point. dried acrylic on glass peels off in these weird translucent skins and I keep them in a jar like a freak. sometimes I glue them back onto a canvas. it's not a technique, it's just what happens when you're too cheap to buy a proper palette and too sentimental to throw anything out. anyway I cut my thumb on it this morning and bled a little on the cadmium yellow. didn't notice until it dried. it's fine. it's basically a glaze now.

charged a client $350 for a 4x4 acrylic piece last month. then i actually timed it out of curiosity. 40 hours total including sketching, the ugly middle phase, the "repaint the whole sky" phase i do every single time, and talking myself out of gesso-ing over it and starting fresh. that's $8.75/hr before materials. after materials it's like $7. and here's the sick part, i know a painting takes me 15 truly good hours and i know i price it like it takes 8. i have the data. i just get scared the number looks big and shave it down. meanwhile the client framed it, sent me a photo, thanked me again. they'd have paid $600 without blinking and i know that too. i'm trying to just... charge the honest number next time. we'll see if i actually do it or if i fold and give the "friends and family" discount to a stranger again lol. anyone else have the exact math memorized on what they should charge vs what they charge? sick of being my own worst negotiator.

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?

when i was chasing my first gallery i got told my work was "too happy" which still cracks me up. it's acrylic, it's color, that's the point. they wanted something moodier. i painted moody stuff for like two weeks, hated every minute of it, went back to loud and never looked back. anyway, what's the weirdest reason you've been passed over for? the more specific the better. "not a fit" doesn't count, i want the one that made you laugh or die a little.

switched to painting on a sheet of tempered glass like 4 years ago, salvaged from a coffee table someone left on the curb on my block. still not sure it's tempered but nothing has exploded yet. the trick is you let the acrylic dry on it and then you peel it off in one sheet. i've got a stack of these paint skins under my flat files, probably 30 of them by now, each one a full record of a week. some of them are genuinely better than the paintings they came from and i refuse to think about what that means. also you scrape it clean with a razor blade and the whole thing is fresh in 20 seconds. plastic palettes stain and hold onto old color and i spent years convinced that was somehow part of the process. it wasn't. it was just dirty. the downside is i've dropped it twice and both times i aged about a decade. currently propped against the wall behind my desk because i still haven't figured out where to actually store a 3 foot sheet of glass in a room this size. anyway if you're still on plastic just know i'm not judging you i'm just quietly right about this one thing

did a 24x30 acrylic, sold it in a group show for 400. felt decent for like four minutes. then: frame was 190 because it's a weird size and i refuse to build my own anymore. gallery took 50%. so i'm at 105 before materials. the canvas alone was 60, and i used most of a 40 dollar tube of cad red on the background because i got carried away with it. so basically i paid to have a painting hang on a wall for three weeks. i didn't actually do the math until last night, which is the whole problem. i price by vibe and the vibe is always "what would make this feel reasonable" instead of "what does this need to be." the thing i can't decide: do i stop doing the group shows, or do i just make the work smaller and cheaper to frame. i've got six panels sitting in the corner that would fit a 40 dollar frame and i keep looking at them like cowards.

sold a 60x80 acrylic for 480 at the weekend. buyer was lovely, paid in cash, carried it out herself. then i sat down and actually did the math, which was a mistake. canvas and stretcher 60. gesso and primer, say 15. tubes of the two colors i used up almost entirely, that's 70 because the good red is stupid expensive now. brushes i killed, amortize whatever, 20. three weeks of work, most of it on the sky, which i repainted twice because the first one was muddy. 480 minus 165 materials = 315. over three weeks that's 15 an hour if i count it as 20 hours, which is generous, because it was more. and i priced it off a number i saw on someone else's instagram. the annoying part is i'd do it again tomorrow. the money isn't really why. but i also can't keep pretending the money is fine, because it isn't, and the only person setting that number is me and i'm clearly doing it badly. sat there with the receipt in my hand and the buyer's car still in the lot and just went, huh. anyway if you're reading this and you also price off vibes and a screenshot you saved, at least we're consistent.

ngl the most important thing in my studio right now costs six dollars and it's a plastic clip fan from the corner store three blocks down. the little ones that clamp onto anything. i clipped it to the easel arm because the acrylic started tacking way too fast once the heat came in, and now i basically paint at the speed the fan lets me. i've learned more about my own timing from a cheap fan than from most of art school. the tradeoff is it's loud enough that i have to pick between the fan and music. today i picked the fan. which means i painted the whole afternoon in this weird white-noise hum like the inside of a seashell and honestly? my hand was steadier. the painting i'm working on is four feet of flat orange and one dumb white shape and it's fighting me on the value, everything else is cooperating just to lull me into a false sense of security about the orange. anyway if you've got a cheap tool that accidentally became load-bearing for how you work i want to hear it

I did a craft fair a couple weekends ago and made $64 total, but $40 of it came from two people I stopped being "the seller" with and just talked to like a normal human. One was a woman who asked a technical question about how I get the sky so smooth in acrylics, which turned into a 15 minute conversation about gesso and soft brushes, and she bought two small prints before she left. The other was a guy who told me his mom used to paint and we just stood there talking about her for a while. He bought one. I'm not saying this is some genius insight. But I spent the other five hours half-smiling at people and getting ignored, and the money came out of the two actual conversations. Kind of makes me wonder how much of my online posting is the equivalent of that half-smile at strangers. All these process reels and behind the scenes stuff I do, and it's the one-to-one stuff that actually moves anything. Anyway, back to my day job tomorrow. The fair was fun but I came home with more unsold inventory than I know what to do with lol.

There's a jam jar on the shelf over the sink, half full of skins. Dried acrylic peel, mostly, curled up like toenails. Some charcoal dust, a few flakes of the ochre I used on the piece that sold. It's disgusting. It looks like something you'd find in a hoarder's kitchen. Started as laziness. I'd peel the palette and drop the bits in instead of the bin, and then one day I noticed the colors had sorted themselves into layers. The cadmium on top, the burnt umber down at the bottom going back months. You can read it like a core sample. I've moved that jar twice now. Packed it in a box with the good brushes, unpacked it first. Anyway I finally used some of it last week. Crushed a couple of the skins with the back of a spoon, mixed them into a wash for a piece about my mother's kitchen. It went muddy and gray-green and honestly it's the best thing on the canvas. Something about the paint already having been alive once. The jar's empty now and I feel weird about it. Not sad exactly. Just like I threw out a diary. I don't know if I'll start another one or if that was the whole point and I should let it be.

Had a woman at a dinner party last week, lovely enough, tells me she's "really getting into painting" and wants my advice. So I ask what she's working on. She tells me she's copying a photo of her dog, in acrylic, and she's almost done but the nose looks wrong. I say, okay, bring it to my studio sometime, or send a photo, I'll look at the values. She says: "Oh, I don't want criticism, I just do it for fun." Then why ask the painter? I don't tell her to quit. I don't care that she's not serious. But don't ask a professional for advice and then preemptively refuse the thing that advice actually is. You want encouragement, say that. But don't call it asking for advice. I blame the whole "there's no wrong way to make art" line. It's true for her, fine, it's true. It's also a way of never getting better at anything. And then they wonder why their dog's nose is wrong. I ended up just saying, bring it anyway, I won't be brutal. But I thought about it for two days after. There's something about being treated as either a therapist or a cheerleader that gets under my skin.