Before I begin this blog post, I have to mention that this past weekend has been chaos in British Columbia, with wildfires forcing evacuations and loss of electricity. Please keep my "neighbours" far and wide in this province in your thoughts. Thank you.
When a painting comes off the easel, you'd think that would be the end of its story, but it's actually only the beginning. The canvas may grace a special corner in someone's home, or may head to a gallery, or be stored, wrapped tightly in bubble wrap until sold from my website.
Over the years, I've changed how I take notes about my work, but after 20 years of painting, those notes are invaluable. If a piece has been exhibited in one particular gallery, it can't go to the same place again. If a jury has declined a piece, I have to note it, so I don't mistakenly offer it to them again.
Those are the big details, but it's the small ones that make the most difference. I was contacted by someone who bought one of my paintings and after many kind remarks, told me the title that was marked on the back. I searched my records and discovered that it had been a charitable donation to a fundraiser over a decade earlier! I had long forgotten about it, but was thankful that thanks to my paperwork I was able to identify it.
In my notes, the title of each painting is highlighted in yellow, which fades gently over time. I also note when there's a special meaning: in May of 2020, they read, "first attempt at a Canaletto sky". The painting was renamed "Summer Prairie Sky" and sold in a summer show at a gallery. Here it is:
Just composing the title isn't enough; it's necessary to have the list of everything on the canvas: acrylic, pen & ink, charcoal, varnish. It may not matter today, but the painting may need cleaning in 100 years and the varnish I use today may be a challenge to restorers in the future.
It may seem arrogant to think of my paintings having such age that they would need cleaning, but simply put, part of my soul goes on each canvas. Like every other artist who ever lived, I hope that the world will treat my work with respect.
My paintings have made many long journeys: to Europe, England, Australia, even parts of the U.S. and Canada that I have yet to visit. It makes me smile knowing my work is touching lives so far away from the Rocky Mountains where I live. My life here is quiet; I often forget that some of my work lives in corners of bustling cities.
As I add more notebooks to the shelf, documenting the journeys my paintings have taken, I'm humbled to see how many years I've been creating and grateful to be able to continue my journey in art.
Thank you for spending this time with me,
Lori xx