Orphans

"Counting Change"
Oil on Panel
(c) Lesley Powell 2011

Frank Hobbs wrote recently in his wonderful blog about all of those paintings that have been for sale, but have never been purchased. He likened an artist's paintings to his or her "children"--don't we all feel that way? That our labors have given birth to them, and that they bear our distinct DNA? We like to send our paintings

out into the world to bring happiness and joy to others. 

But, as Frank noted, "No artist can expect to sell everything he paints".  And I can attest to the next sentiment he mentions--it can be discouraging to see one's paintings languish on the shelf and fail to find a new home. AND YET--I have had the same experience Frank wrote about, in which a favorite painting comes back from the gallery after failing to sell, and I decide to keep it, and find myself falling in love with it all over again. Here's an unsold painting that came back to Frank and holds special meaning for him:

Frank Hobbs

The top painting of a waiter is one of mine that never sold. It now graces my kitchen wall, and I would hate to part with it. I remember that it was one of my very first paintings to go to Huff Harrington gallery in Atlanta, and that it was pictured in American Art Collector magazine. It never fails to remind me of the sometimes gruff, often harried, French cafe waiters--and of many happy hours of people watching at sidewalk cafes in Paris. 

I remember visiting Kevin Macpherson's home during a workshop in Taos, New Mexico. He has a lovely collection, including works by very famous artists, and it was something like visiting a museum. One of my favorites was a positively breath-taking, large canvas that was Kevin's own work. We all asked if he had recognized it as one of his best, and had therefore chosen to keep it rather than place it for sale. Quite the contrary--he said it had been in three or four different galleries, and had never sold, so he had finally just decided to hang it in his own home. Now it is a much-loved favorite. Perhaps that is the result that was meant to be.

I will close with a direct quote from Frank Hobbs' blog, since I could not improve on his words in the slightest. It proves that the painting gains its meaning and purpose not by being sold to another, but that it has its own merit simply from the creative process that brought it into this world. Frank wrote:

In the end,

painting is not about what you made,

but about the making itself.

It's about the day by day decision

to make time for it,

to make room for it,

among all the other competing pressures

of an average life.

To do it at all is a gift,

and that's enough.