In The Gallary

On a sad day late last year I walked past a poster in RMIT and it spoke to me. It was 'Toy to the World' a charity event calling for artists to paint these Popobe bears (vinyl statuettes) for a charity auction with all proceeds going to the Victorian Aids Council.

Because I was so sad that day, I decided to throw myself at my art and volunteered to do it, to paint a bear.

What I didn't anticipate was that painting a small bear statue thing would be one of the most agonizing and depressing lessons in humility ever. I was happy with my design, which was done on paper. But I wasn't happy when it came to painting it.

I felt my brush strokes were too scratchy, the layers uneven, the lines ragged, the colour palette horrible.

The bear stared at me, and I wanted to burst into tears constantly. I kept wondering if I could just throw in the towell and simply never speak to the event organisers ever again.

I've always been particular about commitments though, and I recollected my wits.

The problem was that I had thrown myself into a medium with which I was completely unfamiliar. I'd never painted on vinyl, I hadn't painted with a brush for ten years, I'd never painted onto a 3 dimensional surface.

I learned enough fucking it up though to decide that if I just had one familiar element I could make it work.

I switched to copic marker, and drew on all the linework instead.

What I finished with I felt was a sufficiently rescued piece and only two days past the deadline. It was satisfactorily adequate in my view.

I dropped it off and resolved to never think about it again.

Which I succeeded at for a while because I forgot to roster off work for the exhibition opening.

Yesterday I snuck into the gallery and slunk up the back with a plan to shamefully bid on my own bear to save face and make sure I hadn't wasted the sponsors donated materials. I hadn't seen my bear in two months.

When I saw it it wasn't as bad as I remembered. It actually looked quite good. I felt better, I went to go fill out the minimum bid on it (Item #034) and discovered it had already been bid up to more than I could afford ($50). Suddenly I was filled with a warm glowing feeling and it changed my whole day from terrible to awesome.

Here is what I've learned, at some point you have to accept that you are good at art. Because the alternative means that people who like your art don't know what they like.

Somebody likes my piece and I needed them to show me that, for me to like it too.

I am not going to beat myself up anymore. I am tough enough, and possibly damaged. I am just going to do art and hope it can find its fans. I will do it because I love it. Nothing more.