Here’s the thing. Stuff happened and life became very busy.
The short story: I have decided to start again with my mailing list. Please sign up below, thanks.
The longer version: I refreshed the website, and went to email my people about it, because it had been a while since I emailed them. When I got there I found my account had gone due to inactivity (thanks, Monkey!). Apparently, if you don’t email your list often enough, it vanishes into a void.
At first I was gutted. The people there have been reading my emails since I started, since I was Carry Yarn Stitching. We’ve laughed together during crochet and knitting classes, and hung out on social media.
It’s not a failure though, it’s just a new beginning. My style has changed, I work in more mediums. This way, starting from scratch, with a different setup, and I know that the people who sign up are aligned with where I’m going, and want to be part of it. It’s slower, friendlier, less hustle, and more in tune with how I actually work.
I do hope you’ll decide to join me on this creative adventure. I’ll be sending out newsletters every 2-4 weeks, with links to downloadable treats, behind-the-scenes joy and little updates. If you’re interested, please pop your email in the box below. As a thank you gift, there’s a free set of creative prompts for you to enjoy.
Let’s put the stupid monkey in it’s place. I promise I won’t shout constantly. That’s not how I work.
Someone posted in a group the other day and it was a bit of an unitentional bucket of cold water.
They were decorating their home and considering artwork, and they were asking for the names of well-known artists. They said they loved floral, colourful pieces and had seen some lovely pieces by local artists, but they were hoping to buy “proper art pieces” – ‘investment’ pieces that could be handed down to the children.
Here’s my response:
Slightly biased – I’m an artist. Buy what you like, what you want to walk past or admire and enjoy every day. By buying from small local artists, you are putting food in bellies and paying bills, and I guarantee they are doing a happy dance! Who knows? You could snag an early work of a great artist, that could be worth something later.
Make sure you have a few frames for the children’s artwork. Encourage them, everyone needs creativity.
Someone else commented that you don’t get to guarantee what becomes an investment, so buy what you like and support someone whose work you enjoy. Solid advice.
Someone else said they like pieces which remind them of special places or events – a lovely idea.
Other people have responded with the names of artists and galleries, which is probably more what the original poster had in mind, but without a reason why.
I just find it frustrating – if nobody supports small, unknown artists, there will be no new art. It’s like saying ‘Your work is worthless until it is worth something’, or even ‘You aren’t a real artist until this person decides you are, or you win this award.’ (Insert appropriate emoji here, You know the one I mean).
But art isn’t important because it appreiates in value. It’s important because it means something. If we don’t accept new artists, we miss out. Imagine sticking to the old masters – we would have no artists who are Black, women, disabled, queer, protest art, and more. No impression (it’s loose), no abstract (what it is?), no surrealism (doesn’t make sense). Interesting art movements start with art that is not proper.
When you buy from a small artist, you’re paying a bill, feeding a family, making space for more creativity in the world. You’re supporting a dream. And, who knows—you might even snag an early piece of a growing artist. Supporting a local artist is a tiny act of rebellion, choosing to shape the future instead of withdrawing into the past.
If the art doesn’t appreciate in value? You’ve got a piece of beauty you enjoy, that reminds you of something, or just brings joy to your home.
Painting by my Nan
My most precious pieces have been painted by my grandparents and my kids. (I’m looking forward to having one of my Dad’s for my collection). Imperfect, personal, full of memories. A story of where we have been, and where we are going.
So I suppose it depends what you’re after. Money, or memories. I know what I’d rather inherit.
Seriously, if you want a master, just buy a print. You have kids. It’s all going to end up covered in cheese and fingerprints anyway.
