Well, it’s live, I posted, and nothing blew up! Off to a good start.
Here’s a good question. Why does one, at 2AM have the perfect idea of what to write? Yet in the light of day, all I can think is , “That’s dumb. Who cares?” I am an artist. I don’t do writing. I wouldn’t know what to say. What if nobody cares? Welcome to the life of an artist. Self doubt, all the time.
When I made my first of three trips to Japan in 2003, for an Osaka company, I was really not sure what to expect. My first show was in Tattori City. I walked into this display in Daimaru, a large department store, and there was an entire space of only my paintings, spectacularly framed. Even though it was my work, I was impressed.
I sat down at the table and I waited, trying to look interesting. Did I mention I’m pathologically shy? All I could think of was, what if nobody buys a thing? It stayed quiet and the manager of the company took me to lunch a bit later. While we we eating, he got a call from the gallery. We had a sale!
So back we went to the show. The woman who bought the painting was waiting. One of the traditions at these shows was to present a shikishi, a small art board edged with gold colored trim on which I’d painted a miniature as a gift. I was asked to sign the back for the client with a personal message. She selected to miniature and I signed it for her. 
When I looked up I saw that she had tears on her face. Startled, I asked my translator what was the matter. He told me that she was so happy that she had been able to buy this painting and to meet me, she felt she was blessed.
I felt like looking over my shoulder to see who she was talking about. I paint funny paintings, whimsical, jokes on canvas. Paintings; lite. But having her sit there telling me that, made me realize that what she was saying was exactly what I have always wanted to do with my art; effect people. I felt humbled by her reaction to it.
When I came home from that trip, it was with a new appreciation of my own chosen profession. That first show was the most successful one the company had ever had I was told. But I’ve never forgotten the reaction of that sweet, little lady who reminded me that being an artist is what I am meant to be.
PS
On the other hand, I remember years back when I worked in a gallery that showed my work. I’d just finished a painting that I was particularly proud of. I had just hung it on the wall and a woman walked in and asked me to take it down and show it to her. Once glimpse and she said she’s take it. I was so excited.
I wrote up the sale and packaged my painting for her to take home. In parting, she casually said, “This will be perfect for over the toilet in the guest bathroom”. Wow, I guess that meant that only the men would see it. So, it’s not all glamor.
