So Many Supplies

Have you ever gone on a vacation where you bring your own food, but when you arrive you’ve forgotten some of the basics, like oil and ketchup? The reason we forget them, is that they’re just always there. Kitchens always have oil, ketchup, a salt shaker, etc.

Art supplies are the same. Sure, from time to time we need to buy canvases and some new brushes. But the majority of the supplies we use we take for granted. Our easel, drawers full of paints, 200 old brushes, mediums, paper towels, even our apron and stool. Most of us don’t go out and buy all of those things at once, they are slowly accumulated and become part of the background of our space and work.

Which is why I hate figuring out how to price my work. Most pricing advice is something like, ‘Factor in your hours, the cost of your supplies, the size of the painting, and current rates from other artists.’ The truth is, I don’t know what percentage of my painting apron gets factored in to my prices. Do I factor in the cost of my wheely stool? Painter’s tape? The nails I rest my canvases on? What about the new light bulbs in my studio, or my favorite 5 year old palette knife? Do I factor all those things into the price?

From a math perspective, adding up the cost of the supplies, makes my head spin.

But from a personal perspective, I really love that my life, work, and studio are combinations of new and old. Used, worn, and also fresh and shiny. I love a new paintbrush, but I also love my old mini-blinds adjusting rod that I use as a mahl.

I like that I’m settled in. I have a space. And in that space, I can create beauty and send it off into the world!

Isn't It Just Copying?

Artists are often sensitive, emotional, and able to see things from a different perspective. We can also be a moody bunch prone to soaring snobbery and sinking self-loathing. These two ditches are often best displayed through our disdain for other mediums and genres of art.

As a portrait painter, I most often hear the criticism: “Aren’t you just copying?”

The short answer? ‘Yes.’

I always have.

I copied my parents when I learned to form words. I copied my teachers when I learned reading and writing. I copied my siblings when I learned to tattle. Copying is how I’ve always learned and created.

But, to make the criticism sting less, I would like to suggest that many art forms are ‘elevated copying’. Yes, I’m copying values, forms, and color. But I’m also seeing.

I spend hours looking at my subjects as I paint them. I see. I notice. I’m intrigued. I put that all on canvas. And it does something to the subject, the viewer and me, the painter.

The subject feels seen. Known. Beheld.

The viewer feels empathy. Themselves reflected in the expression and humanity of the subject.

And I, the painter, feel like a mirror. Taking the image of someone and reflecting it back to them with worth, value and dignity.

Yeah, I copy. But my prayer is that I become an artist who copy the steps of the Creator Who sees, shapes, forms, and heaps dignity on all.