I’ve been thinking for a long time about the best way to share what I’ve been working on, as blogging no longer feels like the right fit for me. I’ve decided to give video a go, and I enjoyed making this so I hope you enjoy it too :)
I’d like your opinion, please.
For the last couple of months in between other things, I’ve been working away on the largest scratchboard drawing I’ve made yet: a page of penguins.
I’m rather chuffed with how they look, and though I hadn’t really planned on doing anything with the finished piece, a few people have suggested that it would make a nice poster and I rather agree. So I’ve been looking into the costs of a print run.
As is so often the case, the unit price of anything printed drops significantly the more you order, but this isn’t a real saving if I end up with a pile of penguins stuffed under my bed for the next few years. It’s a balancing act of knowing that it’s a product enough people might want, at the same time as being able to offer a reasonable price. I’m trying to be pragmatic – and honest – about the challenges of putting artwork out in the world, and what the difference is between an image that people like and a viable product.
So I’d love to know, is a penguin poster is something you’d actually be interested in?
It might be that this is just a page of penguins that I’ve enjoyed drawing and people enjoy looking at online: that would be OK! But if it is something you think you might like to buy – with no obligation – please let me know, because I would like to try and make it available.
And if it is something you’d like, what would you consider a reasonable price? It’s 50 x 60cm, if that helps. Again, no obligation. I’m just wondering where’s the price point that would make you say “yes, definitely!” and the one that would make you decide “hmm, no that’s too much…”
I will be SO grateful to hear what you think. Thank you :)
Some days I think my growing fondness for scratch board, officially the slowest drawing medium in the world, is a curse, impractical and quite frankly idiotic.
Other days I think it is teaching me an important lesson.
Since Lighter Than My Shadow was published, I’ve been trying really hard not to approach everything in life like an eating disorder. If anyone is wondering how that comparison makes sense, consider that my former approach to making art involved a lot of lists, target sheets, unreasonable goals and considerable self-flagellation for not achieving them. It became clear in the aftermath of my book that this approach was not only destructive, but unsustainable and honestly not a lot of fun: it was removing all joy from drawing, purportedly the thing I love most in the world. And so I decided to learn to do things differently.
Here’s where the world’s slowest drawing medium comes in. I have no choice but to let it go slowly. An A4 page takes me the better part of a week. My penguin poster has taken two months so far and is still not done. Yet I’ve just decided to also use scratch board for some (not all!) of the next Green Bean.
I am making marks every day, and by my old standards I do not have a lot to show for it. My blog is quiet because I am not churning out work at an unsustainable rate. When I do post, I feel like I’m writing the same thing over and over, justifying to myself that this slower pace is OK. In truth, living with it is extraordinarily uncomfortable. The old pattern would have me down tools in despair, lamenting that there’s no point trying if I can’t conquer the world by tomorrow lunchtime.
I am not doing that. I am going back to the drawing board and making the marks I can make today; learning to let that be enough.