"Truck"
oil on canvas
12" x 16"
*painted outside of Brookville, Indiana with the legendary Larry Rudolech
It's been a few days. I meant to post earlier, but it was a busy week...between the end of a grading period at school, band rehearsals, and a lack of sleep, I've had a hard time catching up with internet stuff.
I have been attending Indiana Plein Air Painters' annual "paint out" in Brookville, Indiana for 5 or 6 years now. At my first outing, I hadn't really figured out how to approach plein air painting yet. I know I've just scratched the surface at this point, but my paintings are a hell of a lot better. It seems like it was forever ago, but when I really think about it, I've covered a lot of ground over the past few years. Every October I look forward to standing in the Whitewater River, drinking beer for breakfast, painting in the streets through the night, warming up at the McDonald's, eating fried chicken, getting heckled by the locals, and hanging out with fellow painters. This year, I had a blast with my good friend, Larry Rudolech...but that's a different story I'll tell another time. Brookville has become a big part of my yearly routine. I hope I never miss it.
A few years ago, I attended the same event in Brookville in hopes to sell a painting or two. I had good luck the year before and had high expectations for a profitable weekend. In fact, I was depending on it. At the time, I was living week-to-week, trying to learn how to paint while simultaneously trying to convince people I was a "professional artist". It was silly to be so concerned about "establishing myself", but at that time, I was totally invested in painting and being recognized as a painter. Possibly, more invested in convincing myself I was doing something important...or should I say, fooling myself. Whatever the case, I had very little money and had decided that a good weekend at Brookville was my best bet at paying my overdue bills and rent. To make a long story short, I painted non-stop for three days, slept in my car, and failed to sell a single one of the 24 pictures I made. On the disappointing drive home, just a few miles from the interstate, my car started shaking violently. I slowed to a crawl, but because of the winding road and long line of cars riding my rear bumper, I was unable to pull over. At the very moment I spotted a county road adequate for a pit stop, I heard a loud noise and my car jolted forward. I looked to the left and was shocked to see my front, driver-side wheel rolling at the same speed an arm's length away from my vehicle. I was probably 150 yards away from the county road pull-off, driving uphill on three wheels, sparks shooting 10 foot into the air as my brake rotor dug a 3 inch rut through the asphalt. I put my foot down, knowing that if and when my car stopped, it would stay stopped. It happened in a flash, but I distinctly remember thinking how ridiculous the whole scene was as I roared down the road, visualizing the events, as they were occurring, as some silly television show...not unlike the Newman in a flaming mail truck, delivering recycled soda bottles for profit, Seinfeld scene. As I slammed my car into park on the wrong side of a county road, more than 100 miles from home, I became incredibly scared. The near catastrophic car accident was intense, but while inspecting the empty hole where a wheel once was, I realized I had an equally empty and much more terrifying hole in my wallet. Aside from the loose change in my cup holder, I had only 4 dollars in my pocket. That 4 dollars was literally all of my money. Actually, with the massive amount of student loan debt I had accrued, my outstanding bills, and my recently maxed out credit card, I guess you could say that those 4 one dollar bills weren't mine either.
Prior to that moment, I hadn't realized how desperate I was. In hindsight, it was incredibly irresponsible and foolish for me to travel that distance in such a poor vehicle, with such poor artistic skills, at such a poor opportunity for financial gain with such a poor choice of a career...while being what some people would call "poor". I don't want to give the wrong idea, as I've never felt as if I was struggling. Even though this story hints at that, I've never been without options and opportunities. I could've always asked my parents for a loan, but at this point, I had decided that option was off the table. I could've fallen back on a job doing something more practical than painting pictures, but that hadn't even crossed my mind. I'm incredibly stubborn and I often suffer because of it. And like many others, I found disappoint as an "artist" very quickly in the venture. I took a lot of silly risks and made many poor decisions that just so happened to work to my favor in the long run. I've heard people talk about taking a chance on your own confidence, and that might've been the case for me, but when you find that you love something as much as I found that I loved painting, nothing seems like a chance. I'm so grateful for my naivety and the good fortune I've found from "living in the moment". I could make a whole bunch of "if I knew what I know now" type statements, but the truth is, if I would've known better a few years ago, I'd never be in such a favorable situation today. When I look back over the past few years, I'm happy to say that I've achieved much of what I once aspired to, but as everyone knows, being somewhere often pales in comparison to getting there.
I could finish the lost wheel story, but it doesn't matter. I made it home, I spent my last 4 dollars, and I eventually got my car fixed. Funny enough, I sold a couple paintings a few days later, temporarily fixing everything. I hit a few more rough patches. I'm guessing I'll have many more. Rough patches have a way of smoothing themselves out if you let them. When they do, they end up seeming much less rough or much more rough in hindsight...according to the type of story you want to tell and the type of person you want people to think you are. Today, I'm telling the happy ending story of perseverance and passion from the point of view of a mildly successful "professional" artist of very few years. But...it doesn't really matter, because I paint pictures and nobody really needs a picture for anything. In fact, I might stop painting altogether. I've always wanted to drive a truck...
