Reaching Out or Out of reach.
Over the weekend I received an email asking me to exhibit some of my work.
In New York.
Though as I stuttered and stummered over the shock, I began to realise that the gallery wasn’t wanting Al Ingham, but just another artist who would pay the same price as every other artist, a mere 3K US for representation for a year. This is without postage and packaging required to get my artworks over there, the insurance to protect my artworks in transit and whilst overseas, and of course the tax I would incur upon any sale (of which the gallery would be happily taking a 30% chunk out).
Whilst it is almost every artists dream to be able to call themselves an international artist, and such a price should not be put on that, this is a price that is just too far out of reach to become a reality, especially having just gotten married and becoming a new home owner.
Thoughts of getting willing friends and family to sponsor the endeavour triggered, but I couldn’t ask friends to give me money for something so personal and ultimately invisible. None of the sponsors, nor myself would ever see exhibitions, the promo material, the reviews or see anything to do with where their money was going.
Dreams are free. Making those dreams a reality is slightly more expensive.