Art and rejection

 Today I was rejected from another show. To be fair there was about a 20% chance my art would be accepted based on the number of entries/space. I know fantastical art is not enthusiastically received at everyday galleries, but I decided to start trying again. For this first show, I didn’t enter my best work even though that is the rule. My best work is unframed, unfinished or in another show. I entered two pieces that I drew over ten years ago in hopes they would be accepted and sell so I wouldn’t have to move them around anymore. Again, I had little hope they would be accepted, but I was more disappointed by their rejection than I anticipated. While pondering why I should still feel so acutely for something that I drew over 10 years ago and that I knew was not my best work anymore, I came to a realization that those pieces of art work have become anchors weighing me down.

Allure of the Spinners

            How can I move forward with art work while I have all these pieces hanging about reminding me that I am not good enough yet? I can make all the excuses in the world such as the little exposure they have had and not finding the right art lover, but no matter what they really are, to me they have come to represent failure. They served their purpose to me while I was drawing them, but I should have moved them out of my life the minute I finished them, because now, after all these years have passed, I somehow feel as if I should be ashamed of them. Even though, when I look at them, I can still see past their faults into the beautiful bits and the joy I had in drawing them, but as soon as I stop looking at them they become the drawing that no one else likes. Since they are an extension of me, it becomes the part of me that no one else likes and then soon becomes a ridiculous declaration rattling around in my head that, “No one likes me.” All the while, the reality is that I have had many complements on them and people like me just fine independent of my art work. Still since they have become symbolic of failure instead of what they really are, the work of a young inexperienced artist, they must go. “Allure of the Spinners” will go to my mother and I will find a good and loving home for “In the Dust.” This show was the last chance for these two drawings.

In the Dust

But the thought of giving a drawing away is heart rending in its own way. All my drawings are my children and it is very hard to part with them sometimes. I’ve given others away, but I’ve given them to people who will appreciate them and treasure them. Unfortunately, there are a few drawings that I can’t imagine anyone liking enough to hang in their home and “In the Dust” is one of those. It is easier to imagine a stranger wanting to buy it than to figure out which friend will treasure it. What if I offer it to someone and they don’t like it? They might accept it out of politeness, look at it in horror and only hang it when I come for a visit. What if it ends up in the dumpster someday or is donated as one of those sad Goodwill pictures? How can I give it away when this might be its fate? I’d rather sell it to a stranger than risk giving it to a friend, because by paying the money for it the stranger has proved he wants to own it and love it, but I have yet to find that stranger. So, you see how I have chained myself to these ten year old drawings. I love them and they make me feel rejected all at the same time, but in the end they have to go. Good bye, little pieces of me.