It's Tuesday, which is our family day. We close the gallery and spend some quality time together. Both Precious and Mr. Man are still sick. Even though, we thought it might be nice to go out for lunch and maybe let Mr. Man play at the arcade for awhile. I found a great new game that I'm totally hooked on. (that's a different post)
After about an hour of mindless money wasting it was time to go. Mr. Man decided that this would be a good time to pitch a fit. The place was packed too. Spring break and all. He starts screaming, "I'm not happy!", and trying to get away from us. Of course it caused a scene.
Trying to explain to a three year old why he should be grateful that he got to go play in the first place, is like talking your car into not burning fuel. It just doesn't work. All he knew is that we had ruined his fun.
On the way home he decides that he hadn't had enough yet. More crying, kicking the seat and then he went for broke. "I HATE YOU GUYS."
That one was over the top. When we got home I escorted him to his room for a talk and a lengthy time out. Again, I might as well have been talking to his bed. I tried to explain again that getting to have fun is something to be grateful for. Thanking us would be a better move than getting nasty, and beyond that we will not tolerate the I hate you comments.
It's heart breaking. We knew he was sad. We try to cut him some slack for not feeling well, but we will not have an unruly brat for a child.
It amazes me how much this little person has changed me. I see everything differently. I react differently. I think differently. He can bring such joy one minute and have us at wits end the next.
It never stops. From the time he wakes up until he goes to sleep, we have to be on top of things. When he's sick, we're up all night checking on him and worrying. It's exhausting. Sometimes, being a parent makes me want to do something mild and stress free, like working for the bomb squad.
Decisions...Part Three
Entering into the beginning of our third "Season" we have come to the conclusion that this isn't the right place for us. As much as I love our gallery, it's not working. We could get by, but we want more than just getting by. Or, if we are going to just get by, we want to do it some where we want to be.
We have looked to hire an employee. A person that could run the gallery and keep it open. It would not have to make nearly as much without Precious and I here. After interviewing almost 40 people I have decided that there is no one on the coast qualified, or trust worthy enough for me to hire. I can be a bit hard on people but this was ridiculous.
People showed up to interview drunk, high, un-bathed, in dirty clothes, no shoes, un-combed hair. I am willing to cut some slack because this is a small beach town with a laid back sort of hippy vibe, but come on. Let me share a couple of my favorites.
Remember, we are a fine art gallery. The average work is about 3 grand with paintings up to 40 thousand.
Woman number one shows up in a tie died shirt, dirty jeans and flip flops. She hadn't bathed in days. I could smell her from across the desk. When she opened her mouth to speak she was missing all of her front teeth.
Man number two came in well dressed. We knew him already. He had worked at an other gallery in town. I asked him to tell me why he left the other gallery. He spent twenty minutes telling me how stupid the other gallery owner was. That the other employees were jealous of him and conspired to get him fired. It went on and on and on.
Needless to say we wont be hiring anyone. Sooner or later we will be closing the gallery.
One of our problems is the lease on our house. It ends in May. The beginning of our alleged Season. It seems foolish to close the gallery at the beginning of what should be a time to make some money. Our house land lord is not willing to rent to us month to month with out doubling our rent. As cool as our place is, that is something we can't go for. So if we stay through the summer and then close, we would have to move for five to seven months, close the gallery and move again.
I recently spoke to a gallery director in San Diego just to feel things out. With out hesitation he told me that he would love to have both of us in his gallery and would hold jobs if we came down in the next couple of months. If we leave now we can't get any of our money back. If we wait through the summer we could get some of our money back but then we would miss out on the jobs available now as well as having the moving issues.
We have also talked about splitting up. No, not like that. We're all good. Precious would go to San Diego in May, stay with some friends and find us a place to live. As soon as she does I would hire movers to deliver all of our things. Mr. Man would spend some quality time with my parents. I would stay in Cannon Beach, work the summer at the gallery and milk it for everything I could. At the end of the Season or when I had made some of our money back I would close it up and head to San Diego. The mere thought of being separated from them makes my heart ache.
So far this is the option that seems to make the most sense. Neither of us are really willing or wanting to give up a chance to get a little of what were told we would get. Besides, bankruptcy doesn't seem like much fun.
There is the outside chance that we could have an April that is three to five times above our gaol. That would solve all of our issues. Some how, I don't see that happening.
We have looked to hire an employee. A person that could run the gallery and keep it open. It would not have to make nearly as much without Precious and I here. After interviewing almost 40 people I have decided that there is no one on the coast qualified, or trust worthy enough for me to hire. I can be a bit hard on people but this was ridiculous.
People showed up to interview drunk, high, un-bathed, in dirty clothes, no shoes, un-combed hair. I am willing to cut some slack because this is a small beach town with a laid back sort of hippy vibe, but come on. Let me share a couple of my favorites.
Remember, we are a fine art gallery. The average work is about 3 grand with paintings up to 40 thousand.
Woman number one shows up in a tie died shirt, dirty jeans and flip flops. She hadn't bathed in days. I could smell her from across the desk. When she opened her mouth to speak she was missing all of her front teeth.
Man number two came in well dressed. We knew him already. He had worked at an other gallery in town. I asked him to tell me why he left the other gallery. He spent twenty minutes telling me how stupid the other gallery owner was. That the other employees were jealous of him and conspired to get him fired. It went on and on and on.
Needless to say we wont be hiring anyone. Sooner or later we will be closing the gallery.
One of our problems is the lease on our house. It ends in May. The beginning of our alleged Season. It seems foolish to close the gallery at the beginning of what should be a time to make some money. Our house land lord is not willing to rent to us month to month with out doubling our rent. As cool as our place is, that is something we can't go for. So if we stay through the summer and then close, we would have to move for five to seven months, close the gallery and move again.
I recently spoke to a gallery director in San Diego just to feel things out. With out hesitation he told me that he would love to have both of us in his gallery and would hold jobs if we came down in the next couple of months. If we leave now we can't get any of our money back. If we wait through the summer we could get some of our money back but then we would miss out on the jobs available now as well as having the moving issues.
We have also talked about splitting up. No, not like that. We're all good. Precious would go to San Diego in May, stay with some friends and find us a place to live. As soon as she does I would hire movers to deliver all of our things. Mr. Man would spend some quality time with my parents. I would stay in Cannon Beach, work the summer at the gallery and milk it for everything I could. At the end of the Season or when I had made some of our money back I would close it up and head to San Diego. The mere thought of being separated from them makes my heart ache.
So far this is the option that seems to make the most sense. Neither of us are really willing or wanting to give up a chance to get a little of what were told we would get. Besides, bankruptcy doesn't seem like much fun.
There is the outside chance that we could have an April that is three to five times above our gaol. That would solve all of our issues. Some how, I don't see that happening.
Decisions...Part Two
Even with business slowing as we finished the first year in our new gallery, I was trying to be optimistic. We knew that traffic would slow in the winter. Our first winter was hell. Everything that happened was the worst the coast had seen in more than 25 years. Or so all of the locals said.
They had never seen that much rain, or that much snow. It had never been that cold. The wind had never blown that hard. They had never seen it flood like it did. In January of our first winter we got trapped on highway 26 for more than 24 hours. Trees had blown down across the road. Hundreds of them. We were close enough to a place called Camp 18 that about 40 of us spent the night. The owner said he had never had to keep people over night before. Of course.
We made the best of it. An adventure like no other. Since the staff was trapped also, they kept the kitchen open so we could eat. Several of us had kids and pets with us. Even with the freezing cold and being trapped they would not let anyone bring their animals inside. It was against health codes. I was so pissed. But that's another story. Everyone helped each other. We played with one another's kids. Took turns on dog watch. I helped in the kitchen and we all bussed tables. As being trapped goes, this wasn't so bad.
The next morning a few loggers had cut a path through a side road back to town. Most of followed them back. At times they had to stop to cut trees that had fallen in our path again but we made it home.
The second summer was coming. Our second shot at "The Season". The local business owners kept referring to The Season like it was the be all end all. In a way I suppose it is. You have to make your money for the year, in a six to seven month period or you're screwed.
We tried a few new things to help business. We were still unsure how things needed to be done in this strange new world we were in. The rules of business we had come accustomed to did not apply here. Summer was lackluster at best. We had not made our years gaol by summers end.
Our second Season was in my opinion, a bust. The only saving grace was that we had negotiated a decent guaranteed salary. We were supposed to get paid so much, no matter what the gallery did. Our partners put up the money. We put up our time. We gave up some of the ownership for a larger guarantee and we didn't have to put in any cash of our own.
Only a couple of months in to our second winter, the gallery was behind. It wasn't bringing in enough to cover everything. I called our partners and told them it was time for them to honor our agreement. We needed some cash.
My messages and emails went unanswered. It became apparent that we had been abandoned.
The partners were not willing to put in any more money and eventually told us we needed to take a cut in pay. We had taken a cut when we left our old gallery. The coast of living was, we were told, much lower in Oregon than Californian so we should still come out ahead. Wrong again.
It ended up costing us more to live in Oregon. Even without sales tax, they made up for it every where else. Everything was more expensive. Food, gas, insurance, utilities were outrageously high.
With our partners not holding up their end of our deal we had to make a choice. If we wanted to stay and keep our gallery open it was going to be up to us. I had already become very attached to our gallery and wasn't willing to give in just yet. Say good bye to our life savings.
We started paying bills out of our own pockets. Taking a check when we could. The things that helped the most were my paintings selling. My work was all profit. No artist to pay. If I could only sell more of my work we would be alright.
Business stayed slow. We were paying rent equivalent to something in Downtown San Diego. Aside from Precious and I, rent was the galleries biggest expense. The landlord had become a friend. They are good people. As much as I didn't want to do it, we had to move to a cheaper space. He understood and even offered to help us move. That would have never happened in California.
We found a space just across the street. More space, half the rent. But upstairs. Usually death for a retail business, but this town had a different dynamic. We decided it would work for us and we made the move.
Our second winter would begin in a new location. I was still holding out and being optimistic. Or stubborn, I'm still not sure which. The first month went really well. We exceeded our new adjusted goal, and the bills got paid.
Then winter showed up. Again, the weather was the worst they had ever seen. Even worse than last year. More rain, more snow, more cold, more wind and my personal favorite, more power outages.
The coast of Oregon is unlike any where I have ever lived. During the winter the coast losses power every few weeks. This year the coast was hit by the storm of the century. Hurricane force winds along with heavy rain, flooding, snow and hail. The coast came to a halt for almost 9 days. We were trapped again. We could not get off of the coast. The highways were covered with water, fallen trees, sink holes, mud slides or a combination of them all. We had no power, no phones. Even the cell towers were down.
Another adventure. This time were were at home, which helped a bit. We moved the bed out in front of the fire place to stay warm. The fire place was our only source of heat. We had enough supplies to last a week. I cooked over a Coleman stove. Along with heating water to bathe. It was sort of like camping. Every morning we would listen to the local ham radios to get a report. On day four we heard that one of the highways to Portland was partially open. I looked at Precious and said, "How fast can you pack?"
In under 30 minutes were were on the road. Portland had no idea the coast was hit so hard. I had enough gas in the car to get us there. None of the stations could pump gas with no power. A few stations were pumping by hand. A five gallon limit at $10.00 a gallon. People were lined up for miles. New family rule: Never have less than 3/4 of a tank of gas in the car. A spare can might not be a bad idea either.
We made it to Portland, only having to stop for a land slide once. The next five days we would try to get reports about the coast. Did the power come back on? Did the phone works? Was our gallery still there? We stayed day to day waiting for some good news.
Aside from the power outage, the flooding and the downed trees, the coast was doing alright. no major injuries. We had heard the power was back on in places and should be up all over soon, so we decided to head home and look around. The devastation was unlike anything I had ever seen. Entire hill sides had been blown down or uprooted. A 750 year old tree, the Sitka Spruce was gone. Once the largest in the world was now just a big stump.
The next week we got back to the gallery and tried to go back to business as usual. By this time the entire country had heard about this storm. No one was coming to coast. No one. They were all afraid. The weather reports didn't help much. The news shows spreading their brand of fear mongering and doom.
Now, three months after the Storm, business is still slow. Peoples fears have gone back to the economy, the war, the elections. Consumer confidence is very low. Even lower here. The few people that are coming to the coast are still not spending money.
This is the first place we've had a gallery that was affected by the economy. In the major cities, there are enough wealthy residents that it doesn't matter. The rich will always have money and always spend it on luxury items. The coast doesn't have that kind of wealth. We have to struggle for every sale we make.
With spring approaching, we are hoping and praying that the tourists will begin to return. Even more we are hoping they will start spending money. Consumer spending can save the economy.
Now is when the decisions need to be made, and we have a lot of them to make. If we go there will be trouble. If we stay it will be double....
They had never seen that much rain, or that much snow. It had never been that cold. The wind had never blown that hard. They had never seen it flood like it did. In January of our first winter we got trapped on highway 26 for more than 24 hours. Trees had blown down across the road. Hundreds of them. We were close enough to a place called Camp 18 that about 40 of us spent the night. The owner said he had never had to keep people over night before. Of course.
We made the best of it. An adventure like no other. Since the staff was trapped also, they kept the kitchen open so we could eat. Several of us had kids and pets with us. Even with the freezing cold and being trapped they would not let anyone bring their animals inside. It was against health codes. I was so pissed. But that's another story. Everyone helped each other. We played with one another's kids. Took turns on dog watch. I helped in the kitchen and we all bussed tables. As being trapped goes, this wasn't so bad.
The next morning a few loggers had cut a path through a side road back to town. Most of followed them back. At times they had to stop to cut trees that had fallen in our path again but we made it home.
The second summer was coming. Our second shot at "The Season". The local business owners kept referring to The Season like it was the be all end all. In a way I suppose it is. You have to make your money for the year, in a six to seven month period or you're screwed.
We tried a few new things to help business. We were still unsure how things needed to be done in this strange new world we were in. The rules of business we had come accustomed to did not apply here. Summer was lackluster at best. We had not made our years gaol by summers end.
Our second Season was in my opinion, a bust. The only saving grace was that we had negotiated a decent guaranteed salary. We were supposed to get paid so much, no matter what the gallery did. Our partners put up the money. We put up our time. We gave up some of the ownership for a larger guarantee and we didn't have to put in any cash of our own.
Only a couple of months in to our second winter, the gallery was behind. It wasn't bringing in enough to cover everything. I called our partners and told them it was time for them to honor our agreement. We needed some cash.
My messages and emails went unanswered. It became apparent that we had been abandoned.
The partners were not willing to put in any more money and eventually told us we needed to take a cut in pay. We had taken a cut when we left our old gallery. The coast of living was, we were told, much lower in Oregon than Californian so we should still come out ahead. Wrong again.
It ended up costing us more to live in Oregon. Even without sales tax, they made up for it every where else. Everything was more expensive. Food, gas, insurance, utilities were outrageously high.
With our partners not holding up their end of our deal we had to make a choice. If we wanted to stay and keep our gallery open it was going to be up to us. I had already become very attached to our gallery and wasn't willing to give in just yet. Say good bye to our life savings.
We started paying bills out of our own pockets. Taking a check when we could. The things that helped the most were my paintings selling. My work was all profit. No artist to pay. If I could only sell more of my work we would be alright.
Business stayed slow. We were paying rent equivalent to something in Downtown San Diego. Aside from Precious and I, rent was the galleries biggest expense. The landlord had become a friend. They are good people. As much as I didn't want to do it, we had to move to a cheaper space. He understood and even offered to help us move. That would have never happened in California.
We found a space just across the street. More space, half the rent. But upstairs. Usually death for a retail business, but this town had a different dynamic. We decided it would work for us and we made the move.
Our second winter would begin in a new location. I was still holding out and being optimistic. Or stubborn, I'm still not sure which. The first month went really well. We exceeded our new adjusted goal, and the bills got paid.
Then winter showed up. Again, the weather was the worst they had ever seen. Even worse than last year. More rain, more snow, more cold, more wind and my personal favorite, more power outages.
The coast of Oregon is unlike any where I have ever lived. During the winter the coast losses power every few weeks. This year the coast was hit by the storm of the century. Hurricane force winds along with heavy rain, flooding, snow and hail. The coast came to a halt for almost 9 days. We were trapped again. We could not get off of the coast. The highways were covered with water, fallen trees, sink holes, mud slides or a combination of them all. We had no power, no phones. Even the cell towers were down.
Another adventure. This time were were at home, which helped a bit. We moved the bed out in front of the fire place to stay warm. The fire place was our only source of heat. We had enough supplies to last a week. I cooked over a Coleman stove. Along with heating water to bathe. It was sort of like camping. Every morning we would listen to the local ham radios to get a report. On day four we heard that one of the highways to Portland was partially open. I looked at Precious and said, "How fast can you pack?"
In under 30 minutes were were on the road. Portland had no idea the coast was hit so hard. I had enough gas in the car to get us there. None of the stations could pump gas with no power. A few stations were pumping by hand. A five gallon limit at $10.00 a gallon. People were lined up for miles. New family rule: Never have less than 3/4 of a tank of gas in the car. A spare can might not be a bad idea either.
We made it to Portland, only having to stop for a land slide once. The next five days we would try to get reports about the coast. Did the power come back on? Did the phone works? Was our gallery still there? We stayed day to day waiting for some good news.
Aside from the power outage, the flooding and the downed trees, the coast was doing alright. no major injuries. We had heard the power was back on in places and should be up all over soon, so we decided to head home and look around. The devastation was unlike anything I had ever seen. Entire hill sides had been blown down or uprooted. A 750 year old tree, the Sitka Spruce was gone. Once the largest in the world was now just a big stump.
The next week we got back to the gallery and tried to go back to business as usual. By this time the entire country had heard about this storm. No one was coming to coast. No one. They were all afraid. The weather reports didn't help much. The news shows spreading their brand of fear mongering and doom.
Now, three months after the Storm, business is still slow. Peoples fears have gone back to the economy, the war, the elections. Consumer confidence is very low. Even lower here. The few people that are coming to the coast are still not spending money.
This is the first place we've had a gallery that was affected by the economy. In the major cities, there are enough wealthy residents that it doesn't matter. The rich will always have money and always spend it on luxury items. The coast doesn't have that kind of wealth. We have to struggle for every sale we make.
With spring approaching, we are hoping and praying that the tourists will begin to return. Even more we are hoping they will start spending money. Consumer spending can save the economy.
Now is when the decisions need to be made, and we have a lot of them to make. If we go there will be trouble. If we stay it will be double....
Decisions...Part One
Our first reaction to this town was, "Why?" Why would people come here? When we looked it up online, almost all of the websites described it as a Carmel of the Oregon Coast. It was painfully clear, very quickly, that the people that wrote those words had never been to Carmel.
It was a cute little town that seemed to be lost in the past. We had stepped into 1950. To make matters more complicated, we had already committed ourselves to spend at least two years here and now we had three days to find a place to live and arrange a cross country move.
The doubts filled us. The coast was poor. Most of the year round residents lived on minimum wage. The home owners spent less than a few weeks a year here. Their homes were seconds, thirds or more. They used their homes for vacation rentals or an occasional getaway where they came to hide. The last thing they wanted to do was be part of the community. Supporting the local businesses wasn't even a consideration.
We went against our doubts anyway. Needing a three bedroom house we started the search. From Astoria to Tillamook there were seven places for rent that filled our needs. It took less than a day to find that all seven were in a sorry state. As we drove around questioning our sanity we came across a for rent sign that had just been put out.
As we pulled in the drive we could hear the roar of the ocean. The house sat on the cliffs of the cove in Seaside. The front yard was wilderness. The back yard was the Pacific ocean. We walked up to the front door and could see through the house all the way up the coast to the state of Washington. It didn't matter what they were asking, we wanted it. It was a dream home. In California it would have been way out of our range even as a rental. That afternoon we signed away a year of our lives and wrote a huge check. In three weeks we would drive our worldly possessions 1600 miles and start our new life.
The move went smoothly. An easy drive up the west coast. We emptied the truck, unpacked a few things and days latter started to open the new gallery. It all happened very fast and gave us no time to get settled.
Cannon Beach wasn't a place that we would have chosen on our own. We had partners. I had know one of them for more than fifteen years. He had been very good to me and I trusted his judgment. We still had doubts.
The first month the gallery was open went well. Better than I had thought it would. Our partners had set a goal of about 37,500 a month for a break even point. Personally I thought 25,000 a month was more realistic, but the first month we hit our goal. It looked promising. Hopefully we were wrong.
The gallery opened in May. This was a seasonal town so the summer kept us busy. Plenty of people came to the coast. They hit every single shop in town, not once but several times. The tourists came to town to stay for a few days to a week. With such a small town they went to all of the shops many times before they would make a purchase. It was odd for us. We were not used to such a seasonal touristy place.
Precious and I grew up in small towns. We kept telling ourselves that we would adjust. This was a great place to raise our son. It was just what we wanted. Away from the busy chaos of southern California, the long slow commutes and self obsessed crowds. In time we would slow down to the pace of Oregon. Two years in and I'm still trying to slow down that far.
The first year of the gallery was not quite what the partners had hoped but a little better than I had thought. It seemed to have potential. We had met some great people and made a few good friends. The house was a haven that made up for any short comings the community might of had. I spent hours a day staring out at the ocean, dreaming. I had a studio in the lower level. It was a great place to be creative. My paintings started to progress and grow.
Into the second year things slowed dramatically. The US economy had started to dive. The mortgage meltdown, the decline of the dollar, gas prices, the war, you name it. All of which spelled a big problem for a place like Cannon Beach and the coast. The only way to get here was to drive and tourists weren't driving. The ones that did were spending all of their money on over priced hotels and food. Very little was being spent on luxury items like art.
It was a cute little town that seemed to be lost in the past. We had stepped into 1950. To make matters more complicated, we had already committed ourselves to spend at least two years here and now we had three days to find a place to live and arrange a cross country move.
The doubts filled us. The coast was poor. Most of the year round residents lived on minimum wage. The home owners spent less than a few weeks a year here. Their homes were seconds, thirds or more. They used their homes for vacation rentals or an occasional getaway where they came to hide. The last thing they wanted to do was be part of the community. Supporting the local businesses wasn't even a consideration.
We went against our doubts anyway. Needing a three bedroom house we started the search. From Astoria to Tillamook there were seven places for rent that filled our needs. It took less than a day to find that all seven were in a sorry state. As we drove around questioning our sanity we came across a for rent sign that had just been put out.
As we pulled in the drive we could hear the roar of the ocean. The house sat on the cliffs of the cove in Seaside. The front yard was wilderness. The back yard was the Pacific ocean. We walked up to the front door and could see through the house all the way up the coast to the state of Washington. It didn't matter what they were asking, we wanted it. It was a dream home. In California it would have been way out of our range even as a rental. That afternoon we signed away a year of our lives and wrote a huge check. In three weeks we would drive our worldly possessions 1600 miles and start our new life.
The move went smoothly. An easy drive up the west coast. We emptied the truck, unpacked a few things and days latter started to open the new gallery. It all happened very fast and gave us no time to get settled.
Cannon Beach wasn't a place that we would have chosen on our own. We had partners. I had know one of them for more than fifteen years. He had been very good to me and I trusted his judgment. We still had doubts.
The first month the gallery was open went well. Better than I had thought it would. Our partners had set a goal of about 37,500 a month for a break even point. Personally I thought 25,000 a month was more realistic, but the first month we hit our goal. It looked promising. Hopefully we were wrong.
The gallery opened in May. This was a seasonal town so the summer kept us busy. Plenty of people came to the coast. They hit every single shop in town, not once but several times. The tourists came to town to stay for a few days to a week. With such a small town they went to all of the shops many times before they would make a purchase. It was odd for us. We were not used to such a seasonal touristy place.
Precious and I grew up in small towns. We kept telling ourselves that we would adjust. This was a great place to raise our son. It was just what we wanted. Away from the busy chaos of southern California, the long slow commutes and self obsessed crowds. In time we would slow down to the pace of Oregon. Two years in and I'm still trying to slow down that far.
The first year of the gallery was not quite what the partners had hoped but a little better than I had thought. It seemed to have potential. We had met some great people and made a few good friends. The house was a haven that made up for any short comings the community might of had. I spent hours a day staring out at the ocean, dreaming. I had a studio in the lower level. It was a great place to be creative. My paintings started to progress and grow.
Into the second year things slowed dramatically. The US economy had started to dive. The mortgage meltdown, the decline of the dollar, gas prices, the war, you name it. All of which spelled a big problem for a place like Cannon Beach and the coast. The only way to get here was to drive and tourists weren't driving. The ones that did were spending all of their money on over priced hotels and food. Very little was being spent on luxury items like art.
Up Late...
I didn't get much sleep last night. Or any. Precious has a migraine. Mr. Man has a fever again. I don't know what they got into but they've both been sick almost a month now. This stinks.
While I wasn't sitting up rubbing their heads, I was in the studio painting.
This one is still under construction. I have a frame already for this canvas. It has a violet suede liner. I'm liking it so far. I have already named a Chadette Violet so I need help with this one. I guess I could name another one Violet.
This is "Rosetta", 16 x 20 inches. Almost done.
Dunes No. 3, 24 x 36 inches. Formerly Untitled No. 8.
Untitled 16 x 20
Untitled 12 x 16
Untitled 16 x 20
"Dark Seas No. 2", 11 x 14. Formerly "Dark Seas No. 1"
While I wasn't sitting up rubbing their heads, I was in the studio painting.
This one is still under construction. I have a frame already for this canvas. It has a violet suede liner. I'm liking it so far. I have already named a Chadette Violet so I need help with this one. I guess I could name another one Violet.
This is "Rosetta", 16 x 20 inches. Almost done.
Dunes No. 3, 24 x 36 inches. Formerly Untitled No. 8.
Untitled 16 x 20
Untitled 12 x 16
Untitled 16 x 20
"Dark Seas No. 2", 11 x 14. Formerly "Dark Seas No. 1"
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