Marketing

Ellen's recent post, and her frustrations over marketing her work, and paying for it all, has me thinking about all the work one does beyond making the art. It seems, at times, that the best most visible art is that which has been well marketed. All that one must do to get work seen... juried shows, portfolio reviews, blogging, websites, business cards feels like a distraction from the main act of making art.

I make pictures to satisfy a hunger. I share them as I would share a meal with a friend . At times, though, when I am working on submissions to various juried opportunities, I feel like I'm cooking for a crowd, and not everyone will like what's on offer. It's tiring, and gets away from what truly satisfies my artistic urges.

The big meals though, can be extraordinary when well received, even if totally exhausting. Not to mention pricey, though I appreciate guests who bring a bottle or two of wine. In other words, if an organization is raising funds for their annual juried show through submission fees, perhaps setting aside some of that money to defray the shipping/framing costs of selected photographs?

Now, to carry the analogy a little further, for the bill. It's been my treat, but I'd love to find the dutch treat of marketing. Like some kind of food bank... is there a way to form a local art cooperative with the goal of giving the ingredients in the form of funds, time, and advice to artists for marketing their work? And, importantly, for marketing it beyond those who are interested in photography? Create the buzz of a popular restaurant?

I don't see this as a traditional artist's cooperative that assists its members in making work by providing studio or gallery space, but one which assists its members in promoting work. Basically, pooling marketing resources. I'm open to ideas.

Workspace Gallery

I'm pleased to have received postcards for my show at the Workspace Gallery in Lincoln, Nebraska. There is an opening tomorrow evening with a short talk by Larry Gawel, the curator there. I'm pleased to share my work there, and really pleased to see a gallery broadening the audience for photography in an unexpected place. The show will be on view until September 3rd.

Florida

We spent a few days in Florida last week visiting family, and enjoying the sun. Well, maybe not enjoying it exactly... after all the dark, dank rainy days we've had in the north east, we were wilting under the hot Florida sun. That said, the sugary sand and jade ocean of the gulf coast are truly spectacular.

The above snaps were made at a little beach front eatery. I find these "put your face in the hole for a picture" things hard to resist, though my boys wouldn't agree to put their faces on the mermaid, so I roped my husband into it!

It's good to be home, though it continues to be a murky dark summer, and these few days in Florida may well be the most summer we get this year.

The Rain

Rain everywhere. Rain up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; rain down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Rain on the Essex marshes, rain on the Kentish heights. Rain creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; rain lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; rain drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Rain in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; rain in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; rain cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ’prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of rain, with rain all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.

Apologies to Dickens... of course he wrote about the fog everywhere at the start of Bleak House, and frankly after that dour opening pragraph to the novel, I opted to skip the next nine hundred or so pages, and never read it. But it's been damp, damp, damp in the northeast, and feels so dark and dour like a Dickens novel

Where's the sun?

Kodachrome, RIP

My sister, my brother's head, and I
Venice, 1970 or 1971

Sad to learn that Kodachrome will be discontinued soon. There are some pictures that are important to the history of photography that have been fixed to this film, not to mention the many snapshots that were made with it. Including the hundreds my dad made of us on various trips and events when we were growing up.

It was a stellar film.

I've edited this post to add that I've written about Kodachrome, and posted a few more snaps before, here.

Father's Day

Grandpa's Hand
Copyright 2009 Suzanne Révy

I regret not having a portrait of my father. I regret that he did not live long enough to know all of his grandchildren. Happily, however, my husband's parents are very much with us, and know their grandchildren very well.

So, the next photography project is a series of family portraits. I've ordered a boatload of film, and we are heading to a family gathering later this week! I don't want any more regrets.

Happy Father's Day to all the great dads out there, past and present.

P.S. I finally figured out how to get the accent aigu on my name!!

Raising Kids

Socks
Copyright 2009 Suzanne Revy

Maybe I'm over thinking it all.

We all want happy and healthy children, but at times the choices and directions our lives take, might make them sad or anxious or angry. Life is difficult after all, there's no way around that fact. In the long run though, the moves, the changes, the games they win or lose, the schools they attend, the friends they make and break will inform their own choices as they move into adulthood.

We simply can't be happy all the time. And that's not necessarily a bad thing.