So it's time to start the whole application process for Art Fairs in the area. I don't want to. I am avoiding it like the plague. I don't want to spend next summer holed up in my tent doing 25 art fairs. And really, I hate the rejections. I try to be brave, like when I was a little girl and my dad would buy me ice cream if I didn't cry at the doctor's office on immunization day; but it does really sting when I get a rejection letter. I hate that sinking feeling in the mysterious pit of my stomach. I got my first letter of the season today. I will not be at the Indiana State Museum show this year.
I think this is especially hurtful because I am going through a period in my artist life where I am sure this art I have been creating is not my own. I have simply been copying the style of some very talented artists this last year. I feel good about the art that I have created, but I don't really believe it is mine. I think the closest I have come to my own art is what I did in collage class to please my cranky teacher. And there you have it. My art is done in a way that I think will please others. I have to find my own voice.
I am making some progress in this area, by the way, but nothing I am yet willing to share. All I can say is that my sketch book is being filled slowly with awful and lovely pieces that are a complete (and I am saying utter here) departure from what I have been doing. But they make me smile. And this is really important to me.
So, the last thing that sounds engaging is to have my "imposter" art looked at and criticized by people who are trained in this area of visual art. I have to work through this before I am going to really be happy, and before I run screaming. I feel like the little girl at the slumber party who just wants to call her dad to come get her. Can I give up now? That would be easier than all this.