My home, studio, gallery, all in one, is not a museum. I want my painting seen, out there in the public eye.
This is the reason I've tried to keep the prices of my pieces as low as I reasonably can. Frankly said, I don't want my grandchildren to discover my dust-covered art out in the garage fifty years from now.
So, what's the cost of my individual work? Usually in the $200 - $300 range. Cash or check is fine with me; credit card payments are for the 'other guys'. When necessary, each painting can be sent, usually UPS insured at a minimal cost to you.
The process for my paintings is pretty simple: I take a lot of on-the-scene photographs which I then use as a guide for my in-studio creation. I try not to 'make up' scenes - after all, when you have the real deal staring back at you it doesn't make sense to me trying to create color that isn't there. I know from earlier experiences my palette will always end up looking like a lumpy plate of mud.
Speaking of mud, I began painting with oils about fifty years ago. Now I like to use heavy weight acrylic paint which seems to satisfy my attempts to complete a piece in reasonable time.
Then again, the time it takes for me to complete a painting is more than you might possibly think, something I never take into consideration when pricing. I'm not a 'contest' painter, trying to complete a work in less than four hours then tack it to an easel, available for immediate sale.
If I was a 'charge by the hour' artist then my pieces would probably run in the four figure range. Kind of silly if you ask me. Very unreasonable. Art, it seems to me, isn't an hourly-wage occupation. Besides, I almost never know when a piece is completed because I often return to the easel and decide to change a little something on the canvas when I find that I could have better painted one area or another.
So there you have it, Mike Cangemi, from Gloucester (Glosta) since 1975. Painter, musician, author, lucky to have grown up during the explosion of liberal thought during the 1950's and 1960's, played sandlot baseball with wood bats and sung in coffeehouses before audiences of less than a dozen, fortunate to have met a lot of caring and kind individuals up here in Glosta along with an attic full of memories of my friends from Dorchester's Hemenway Park in Boston.
Some things never change, others can't change quickly enough. You all know what I'm talking about. Be creative. Painting, singing, writing are only a small part to what makes us tick. Don't wait for the other guy to show his face, that shadowy figure who emerges from around the corner and makes you say "I've wanted to do that my entire life and never got around to it."
Take the time to become 'that lucky bastard' you've always thought someone else is.
I am an artist member in both the Marblehead Arts Association and Newburyport Art Association.