As I write this, 2017 has officially come to a close and 2018 is almost twelve hours old. My blog this week was going to be about a completely different topic, but a few days ago, I found out that a dear friend of mine had also left this Earth. He loved me as a father dotes on his own child. I am forever grateful that he came into my life. As quirky as we were over the years, he accepted my husband, two daughters, and I without judgement. He taught me many life lessons - the foremost one being true simplicity.
Looking back over the decades, I have to admit that he was an uncomplicated man. What you saw is what you got. His small home and furnishings were, by most societal standards, sparse. There were barely any pictures on the walls, as he didn't want anything to distract him from the view from his house that was right on a lake. One of the most prominent aspects of his life that he cherished was peace and quiet. While he worked hard and provided for his family, I always found it ironic that he worked with noisy, heavy machinery for a paving company for years.
It was a brief, odd journey over a few days last week that led me to the news of his passing. He had a very small circle of friends that he always kept private about, and according to his oldest son, he did not want an obituary published in any newspaper. I guess you could say that he was humble and modest to the end. However, he always supported me in my artistic ventures, even though he never understood my art. He commissioned an art work of mine for a neighbor way back in the late 80's, when I was just getting started. While he always did his best to appreciate my works, I always found it humorous by the look on his face that somewhere in the back of his mind he must have thought that many of my works were just borderline crazy.
I remember his small home on the lake, his motorboat, his sailboat, my attempts at water-skiing, as well as the cookouts at sunset. He surrounded himself with beauty, and even though life had it's ups and downs, he radiated contentment about his life as well as his concern for others. Along with my husband, he gave the push to "...live the life that was ahead of me. Search for tomorrow. To try the best I can and to carry on." Even with that thought process, my life seems so vastly different than his. Maybe that's just the way it should be. I oil paint - hence, many of my paintings adorn my living space. In fact, my art seems to take over my living space. In order to sell my art, I have to dress up and put on a "show" of sorts. It seems that at too many times, I have to persuade people that my art and art in general has great value in our lives. Can you tell I don't like selling?
But, if I don't sell my works, even when I just feel like giving them all away to good homes, I feel like I'm not projecting my worth and thus selling out. Selling myself short in other words. I put a great number of hours into my work and I (as well as many of my artist friends) believe our worth of being paid a fair market value. An elderly gentleman once told me, "... a pieced of art isn't completed until it's in the hands of an admirer." This was at a time when I was attempting to "move" some of my older works at inexpensive prices to make room for more current work. That technique did work as an ends to a means even though it didn't put a great deal of money in my pocket.
We all know life isn't fair. We're not handed a "life is fair" card or certificate at birth or at any other time in our life. So - what am I going to do about it? I got motivated last year and showed at three different galleries in 2017. However, this is a new year with new possibilities. I am making contacts with more galleries for upcoming shows, as well as getting reestablished on-line and through art licensing companies. A new year... new possibilities.
I am still alive. "The art of life is to live in the present moment, and to make that moment as perfect as we can by the realization that we are the expression of God himself. The best way to prepare for tomorrow is to make today all that it should be." - Emmet Fox
"Do what you love." In loving memory of Pete Jalbert.
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