How to sell you artwork online and teaming up with Crusade for Art and Jennifer Schwartz

From the trenches of producing and collecting art, comes Jennifer Schwartz and her Crusade for Art.  Schwartz has made an indelible impact on helping emerging artists and collectors connect over photography. I am so pleased to be joining the team of crusaders! Here is my first blog post on how to sell your artwork and photography online. You can post questions on the blog or tweet me at @s63_zen.


http://www.crusadeforart.org/blog/online-art-selling

Dear Mother and Daddy- The beginning of my process

Here is a photo of my first official provenance research project performed in 1986, but what I found more interesting was the note with it.

Now here is the start of my process. I take an image and study it, rearrange the objects, and compose again. There is no set time for this. If I choose this image again, it may look much the same or entirely different. Yet, before I arrive at that decision, there is the handwriting, the old Apple font behind it, and repetition of the squares; who is this note to and why the words are significant? There is an entire story behind these papers. A record of my history, the date of the note, and the sentiment all communicate simultaneously. Because I want to have these multiple meanings and layers for viewers to experience, I want to give all the separate pieces of the objects space. In a few weeks, I will post another version of this image, which I have not pre-visualized. So, here I admit, I do not know what it will look like.

About the image: In 1986, I wrote a research paper on a piece of historic art, which belonged to my mother. I was 12 years old. The actual paper, written on an old Apple computer having limited fonts, sets the background with the handwritten note by my mother. My grandparents were art dealers and provenance research was a daily ritual, which I was fortunate to experience. For my first twenty six years, I regularly visited my grandparents in Center City, Philadelphia, until my mother passed away in 1996. And then, the date, October 20th: she wrote this ten years to the day she passed away.

Special notes reminds us

Pois                                               Sarah Brown, 2013

Robert Pois was not just any history professort; historians face a dichotomy of knowing and understanding for the human race that is both rewarding and a heavy burden; they carry our collective memory. He made sure you left his courses critically thinking, despite his topics and advanced scholarship on World War I. One summer day I visited him at his home. The visit was one of many, but this particular time he inscribed his book he wrote on WWI and gave me a copy of Waiting for Godot; maybe he was telling me not to wait?  On the day of my graduation, I remember how we were laughing and trying to pose for the photograph outside the history department building. I gave someone one of those old disposable film cameras. He has long been a person of encouragement, and this framed portrait of us sits on my work desk. Pois passed away in March of 2004. 

Thou Mayest, the inscriptions I have kept

Intimate notes inscribed on the inside of books are my new addition to my handwritten note series. I know I had titled the series Graphi, but am now realizing that as the body of work is "evolving," I must recognize that I still need to keep a list of possibilities. This list is also a resource at other times for some inspiration when I want to photograph or draw, but need some ideas to get started.

Thou Mayest                                            Sarah Brown, 2014

Many years ago, my childhood friend, Courtney, gave me this paperback of East of Eden. She was my dearest and closest confident for many years; she stayed with me for the initial weeks after my mother's death; she showed me the beauty of Sharpies; she had the best handwriting.  Her sentiment of Thou Mayest tells me of her unconditional love for me, and I am reminded that my friends from childhood are some of my most precious treasures. They know me.

Must Photograph for Personal Sanity: Graphei, new personal work

I just can't stop myself from photographing for personal sanity. After reading about the importance of Emotional Intelligence in the NY Times this morning, I can honestly type out that clicking the shutter, figuring out lighting, all that goes into producing a photograph (minus serious Photoshoping) is all  deep breathing for me. My son will say he relaxes when he plays piano for fun (not an instructional song) or tosses the baseball in his glove. We all have our preferred method.
Although artists will tell you, art producing can be agonizing. And it is; I have my fair share of frustration, jumping jacks, all out melt down regression. This is part of the process, but what I am talking about it the actual practice of the art, photography.

Today, the fast access has changed our social definition of photography. Did you capture with your iPhone, point-n-shot-, small DSLR, overpriced DSLR? Did you dig out that old Canon A2?
This is a form of practice. Yet, the act of photographing with the intention of a series or body of work is different because the assemble, the visioning, and attempts are all intertwined. The photographing is like taking a walk-slow, steady, and aware. This practice formulates from within, and bubbles from inside. I see inside out. No class can teach this-although I do have a curriculum written for a course. A willing and desire to travel down this path is part of my process.

This leads to my new work that is tilted Graphei.

Mother's Borscht Recipe and her explanation 

Amidst the digital ways we now communicate with one another, the intimate connection that something handwritten emits has lost favor; the act of writing is personal, takes time, attention, and a part of the author. Nothing illustrates this more than my mother's handwritten notes, my father's letters, inscription on the leaf of a book from those I once dearly loved, and family recipes. These handwritten objects seem immortal and in some way the only conversation that I can still have with the authors, like my mother. And it is the conversations, the exchange of love through words that are permanent in a reality that is impermanent. Graphei, the Greek word for handwritten, is a series of ongoing work that explores the fading commonality of  handwritten words, the design of letters, the character of paper, the sentiment of the context, and a small peak into my personal world of these emotional conversations. 

Late Thursday Confession

I am back in full swing in the final semester of the MLIS program. For the past few weeks, I have been working at Florida Atlantic University in their Special Collections and Archives department and enjoying the exposure to the specialty of Special Collections. One of my research project is processing part of the University Archives Sports Photography. This has been one of those fun projects that is over seen by the Special Collections Librarian, who has been an great mentor already. I lucked out big time.

My research entails the process of exhibits. When we see an exhibit in a library, museum, or gallery, extensive planning sometimes starting years in advance is involved in what you view. My work with the Norton is a year long planning process that the public won't see until 2014. I was just commissioned for an exhibit in 2015! So, the process leading up to an exhibit also depends on how the collection or work is stored. If art work of any medium is stored improperly, it won't last. Bugs, what they leave behind, moisture can all reek havoc on art. As I am going through the housed Collection, I am looking for condition issues, negatives that need to be sleeved, and subject matter to be collated. This is the origination of an exhibit.

My Office for the next 10 weeks

If you are in Houston, be sure to catch this exhibit

I openly admit that one of my quirks is loving paper; throw in some wet transfer process with some emulsion and, I am captivated. Holy cow this exhibit just couldn't get me more chatty. Look at the paper folds; the stamps; the handwriting; the house. Something that seems incomplete often is just a perspective. Her use of the negative space is smart and shows she was thinking on multiple levels. Positive negative linear and incomplete, the folds make your eye move; then fixate on the house. A space we all identify with.

Catherine Couturier Gallery in Houston is showing a San Fran based photographer, Rachel Phillips. Her series entitled Field Notes is just lovely. This one above is my favorite.