Excitement of selling a painting is always tempered by a feeling of loss.
The excitement of selling a painting is always tempered by a feeling of loss. One part of myself, which is the creative side, and the one side that continues to make art is exhilarated. Knowing my artwork speaks to other people so much, that they want to display it in their home makes life worth living. The other part of myself is the business side, which knows that in order to make a career as a visual artist, one must sell their artwork to make a living. It is one of these sides that feels immense separation and anxiety as I watch one of my paintings depart from my possession.
Perhaps this duality of human nature is intrinsic to the artist journey.
I created "A Caregiver's Pain" in January 2020. The painting was inspired when John, my husband, and I spent over a month in Rochester, Minnesota, caring for my mother and father, who were recovering at the Mayo Clinic.
"The painful journey that caregivers experience, emotionally and physically, requires patience from a higher calling. Being human can no longer be an excuse in the eyes of a loved one who is suffering and needs you. A caregiver needs a cape and superhuman powers willed by a secret strength only known to superheroes in comic books that I grew up reading. In the end, the heart is what matters. And yet the heart is unguarded, without a shield and it bleeds."
Jason and Sarah Elkins drove to my studio to transport "A Caregiver's Pain" to Denver, Colorado. We spoke of the artwork and how this painting engaged with them. It was a pleasurable and sincere experience to meet them, and I was so honored that their purchase, as first time art collectors of abstract art, was my painting "A Caregiver's Pain".