SOLD.

 

Chuffed as I obviously was at winning this year’s least visited attractions in the Western Isles, it has like all awards, accolades, and advertising changed nothing. Life has remained blissfully peaceful, and my total lack of interest with the outside world means I simply bumble along from day to day, pottering in the garden or playing in the studio. My ignorance of world affairs is staggering as I discovered when talking with a friend that I’d totally forgotten, not only who our first minister was, but who the prime minister was. Has this man no shame, well since I’ve never voted those sort of things carry no more significance than yet another award. I remember when a friend from Brittany was staying and he saw a photograph of Boris Johnson in the local newspaper. He was shocked to see that Boris was white, very white. He’d heard the name and thought he was the first black mayor of London, presumably getting confused with a world heavy weight boxer.

 I’ve stacked a lot of stuff away in the store cupboards, but that doesn’t seemed to have created any more space, and I mistakenly thought making very small items might help. I was asked recently why I don’t put more of my creative works on line, and here was me thinking I perhaps put too much on line. However it did get me thinking if I should show more of my work. Looking through my photographic records I realised there has been a vast amount of creative output over the past thirty five years, and some of it not half bad. For twenty of those years I had a website, and during all that time I had not a single enquiry. Since dispensing with the website I’ve published a multitude of posts on this Hebridean Dreaming blog and shared that to Facebook. This has often resulted in a few thumbs up responses, while others have left enthusiastic comments as to my talent. Beautiful, amazing work. There has however not been a single enquiry as to the price. I’ve been assured by some who are presumably in the know that certain of my work should sell well. That’s useful to know, but for how much and where. Over the years I have managed to scrape a living from my art while leading what many people would describe as a very frugal life. I’ve run my own gallery both when living in Frome and later in Britany. I’ve had many one man shows concentrating on a single aspect of my work, or a theme that I set myself, but the exhibition in 2019 at An Lanntair surprised many with the shear variety of my creative output. Since then I’ve had two highly successful shows in London of my needlework, which have raised the prices of my folk art embroidered images to a very different level. Some might say why do I bother putting anything on line, and the simple answer is that my art is made to be seen and preferably by as many people as possible. Since there are very few who are prepared to travel this far north the most practical way to allow them to see my work is on line and through social media. Now at this point I have to be careful, and I certainly don’t mean to offend anyone, but I very rarely read comments that refer to my work. Sure people have opinions, likes and dislikes, but frankly I’m past caring, everything I do is for my own amusement.

 

When on the very rare occasion someone does come to my studio, like today, and purchases one of my works, I still get an extra ordinary buzz. Thank you Laura. I often find myself looking at my battered old hands, rough and grimy from gardening without gloves, and think someone just parted with real money for an item made by those hands. Two weeks ago I started charging a £5 entry fee to my studio/gallery with money back on any purchase. Not counting today’s customer I had up to this point had one visitor and two snooper, so I can’t draw any scientific conclusion. However the first couple decided that it wasn’t worth both of them going in, assuming the entry fee was per head. The entry fee purchases my time, and is not a head count. The husband remained outside and fortunately it was a beautiful day for a wander around my garden. The wife decided to purchase a rather charming mid-19^th century child’s potato print mug for £12, and in doing so got her fiver back. This week I noticed a woman passing the kitchen window, but heading in the wrong direction. I popped my head out the front door to see if I could help. She told me she’d arrived a bit early for her pony trekking, but maybe she’d call in after. I never saw her again. Then two days ago, a filthy wet one, I lit the fire in the studio and put the open sign out on the road. As I sat stitching I caught site of someone passed the window. Having a snoop, or missed the entrance, I wasn’t sure. I took a look outside and discovered her standing in the drizzle, but nothing was going to persuade her to pay £5 to come in. She informed me that at her age she no longer bought anything. How sad I thought, so what on earth was she doing at my door. I was baffled, but at least the interruption was brief.     

Since there is no question of anyone wanting to buy my work from images they might see on my blog or on my Facebook page I thought it might be fun to looking back over some work from past decades, starting with a few island images. They  are all sold, (ranging from £90 to £2800), but their price is irrelevant, they require no comment, just your consideration. The best compliment an artist can receive is gobsmacking silence. I have achieved it a couple of times, but it will always remain a rare and beautiful thing to witness.