A few days in the life of an Emerging Artist
Saturday, the rest of the family is going to see the Tigers in Leicester. I am on a train heading to London to drop off a painting at the Mall Galleries which has been pre-selected for the New English Art Club’s annual open. I feel good about the painting. I had the NEAC in mind, even toning down my colours, while painting. I was the scholar a few years ago but have not been selected since, even though I sold three pieces at that show and my work is getting stronger.
Bird Table, egg tempera on panel, 2022
The train is pretty full and there are group of three women in leopard print dresses coifing bubbly to celebrate a 50th next to me. Before I get off they ask to see my painting and what follows are surprised heartfelt WOWs. They like it. I tell them it has only been pre-selected when they ask where and when they can see it. I give them a card.
As I hand in, I ask how many have got through to pre-selection and am told about 400. They will probably select 150. I Instagram my family with an image of the sandwich board and ask for bets. I also ask my daughter if she will collect. The train down cost over £30 (with my railcard).
Charlie and the Red Hot Pomegranate
Meanwhile, I have submitted to the Holly Bush Painting Prize. To date I haven’t been lucky with that but I liked Charlie and the Red Hot Pomegranate enough to make it my holiday card and the other painting I chose to submit, Wiseman with Fruit, had a tortuous life and finally became what it needed to be.
Wiseman With Fruit
The turn-around time is quick. On Tuesday I take my painting number and match it with the numbers posted online for the NEAC show. Failure. I am usually not surprised, but this time I am. I am in a slightly enraged funk for a few hours. I finish a new painting (which I love), sit down between dinner prep and eating and check my emails…
Both paintings I submitted for Holly Bush have been longlisted. I should know if anything is shortlisted by Friday. I will be on a plane to Maine then, to help my 88 year old mother in her garden. I won’t contact Jocelyn Hollis, my framer, just yet.