For much of its route, Rt. 66 has been obliterated and bypassed by I-40.
There are around 35 cities named Springfield in the United States, and I feel like I’ve been through most of them this week.
In fact, I only bagged five: Massachusetts, Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, and Missouri. I’m in Sedona, AZ for the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival, after driving more than 3000 miles in 4.5 days.
I asked the internet why Springfield is such a popular place name in the US, and the answers were all over the map. Springfield, MA was a major manufacturing area during much of our push westward, and so the name might reflect the optimism that one’s little settlement could be another powerhouse community. Or, they might have been named after the 16 Springfields in Great Britain. In some cases, there may even have been springs located in fields.
Holbrook, AZ, where I turned south for Phoenix, is a lovely pocket of mid-century Americana.
Springfield, Illinois is forever associated with Abraham Lincoln, and although I didn’t stop at his National Historic Site on this trip, I’ve visited it before. I missed his boyhood home in the Pigeon Creek Community, and I regret sailing past the Petrified Forest National Park at dawn. But needs must when the Devil drives, which my husband might think is preferable to my lead foot.
I did take a few minutes to drive down legenday Rt. 66 through Tucumcari, NM. It was a disappointment. Much better midcentury charm was to be had in Holbrook, AZ, and it was right on my way to Phoenix.
On that note, I’m off to get my boards stamped for the festival, and I’ll see you all on Monday.
Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
“Non-creatives underestimate how much time we spend on non-creative tasks to support our creative output,” artist Cheryl Shanahan recently told me. She was varnishing paintings at the time, but I’ve been thinking about her comment this week. I’m in the middle of a 41-hour drive from Rockport, ME to Sedona, AZ for the 20th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival.
“But that’s on you, Carol,” you may be thinking. Over the past three years, it’s taken 24 hours for me to travel by air from my house to my friends’ house in Phoenix. That includes getting up in the middle of the night to drive down to Portland, layovers, and time spent foozling around renting a car. Driving may add another 16 hours, but when I get there, I have my own car, my own dog, and even my own chair.
And, rather annoyingly, last year my entire painting kit (retail value, ~$600) disappeared somewhere between Sky Harbor’s car rental return and my gate.
Beautiful Dream, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Two winters ago, my son and I contracted COVID in West Yellowstone, MT. Given a choice of feeling horrible in a hotel room for ten days or driving home and feeling horrible in the car, we elected to zip back to his apartment in New York, taking turns sleeping and driving. I learned a few things on that trip, including that COVID is slightly less horrible in a car than in my bed. Just as importantly, America is prettier on the ground than from the aisle seat of a plane.
I’m not planning on getting sick on this trip, but I still had a lot of prep work to do before leaving. That included closing my gallery for the season and wrapping and storing paintings. I won’t be home until early November, after all. In addition, I prepared archival painting boards, matched them to frames, made sure I had enough paint, and sorted and packed my tools and clothes.
I’m luckier than most because I have a 3-day-a-week administrative assistant. But even with that, non-creative tasks often threaten to swamp me. In addition to the Cheryl’s varnishing and my travel, here are some of the things professional artists do that you never see:
Preparing classes and workshops: I love teaching, both on Zoom and in person at workshops, but there’s a lot of lesson planning involved. Some of my students have been with me a long time, and I refuse to feed them warmed-over instruction.
Marketing and Promotion: I’ve had to learn things like SEO the hard way. While Laura manages my promotional materials, website and Google visibility, this blog is still 100% written by me, three days a week. The oldest posts on this platform are from 2007; I don’t know how much earlier I started it.
The Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, $2318 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Boring old admin: Someone has to read contracts, invoices, and routine emails. Worse, someone has to file state and Federal tax forms.
That includes paying the bills and keeping accurate records, which I do twice a month.
Art handling: Preparing artwork for exhibition includes framing, packaging, and transportation. And you don’t necessarily do it just once—frames get damaged in transit, or by people knocking into them. And they go in and out of style.
Documentation: We used to send work to professionals to be photographed and wait to get slides back. The modern artist photographs his or her own work and maintains records of sales and exhibitions.
Midnight at the Wood Lot, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449.00 framed includes shipping and handling within continental US.
“How long did it take you to do that painting?” is one of the most common questions we’re asked. We like to answer, “a few hours, plus the sixty years I’ve spent learning my craft.” A more accurate answer would include all that back-office work that you, the buyer, never see at all.
