Recently I was approached via email by a woman from New York City. She was a marketing coordinator for a gallery in Chelsea. She told me that she had viewed my art work on my website and wanted me to consider presenting my portfolio if I was interested in gallery representation. She asked if I was interested in more information, of course I said yes.
The lure is cast:
The information that she sent me was beautiful. It was professional, glossy, contemporary-- in short-everything I would expect from a NYC gallery. Artists dream (in full blown color, exaggerated details and even scents) of such an opportunity. The ultimate goal is to reach that level of gallery representation. If I could find gallery representation in some major cities, then I could possibly, just possibly achieve that ultimate goal. To be able to paint full time, to make a living with my art...that one thing that I have been told my entire life that could not be done.
An unbelievably lofty goal.
My EGO engages:
"Wow, Wendy," it says to me. "I told you your work was good enough!" it sings. My extraordinary imagination begins to see myself greeting people in NYC, with my paintings hanging on perfectly lit pristine wall spaces. Of course the paintings glow with rich colors and textures, causing masses of New Yorkers to stop and stare in rapture....
Then reality thunks me in the head:
"We ask that artists read the FAQ section before submitting your portfolio: We offer a few representation options, starting from $3850, which can be paid in six installments of $710 each...."
It says in fine print "That which appears too good to be true, usually is..." (this common sense comes to me in my mother's voice and refers to everything from interesting men, to low fat ice cream.)
Reality is saying to me: