Public commentary

[Mike McCarty]

I have just spent my second week painting in public. The things that come out of people's mouths will just knock you off your feet.

I have a portrait of my daughter presented on an easel right up front where people see it first. If I see someone taking more than a casual interest I usually stop painting and approach them. Such was the case with this couple.

I approached and said proudly "This is a portrait I did of my daughter when she was two years old, she's almost eighteen now." The woman takes her finger and points to the painting and says to her male companion "You see this, she says matter of factly, this is called [****] (she spoke some medical term that I had never heard and don't remember) this is caused when the mother drinks heavily during pregnancy." The man then said to me "good job" and they walked off.

I just stood there trying to figure out on which of the multiple levels I should be most offended.

Feel free to post your experiences. I'll come back here with any other worthy examples but I hope I don't top that for a while.

[Mari DeRuntz]

Mike, I know, human behavior is unfathomable. I just read an interesting article in a foodservice magazine with an analogy I thought I'd pass on -

Much like the folks you'll encounter in your personal life, 40 percent of your customers will be friends, 40 percent acquaintances, and 20 percent like driftwood in a river--just keep 'em moving. I've made the mistake of worrying about the driftwood and not paying attention to the friends."

(The sage advice is from Mark Tarbell, owner of Tarbell's and Barmouche in Phoenix.)

It takes an iron-confidence to see it this way. Those people were driftwood. I think your new setup is going to be very rewarding; just let the driftwood pass.

For a marketing spin, you could write an eloquent "letter to the editor" of your local paper.... free advertising of your services, your new location, AND exposure of your customers' inappropriateness - written sort of as an appeal for humanity in wartime.

[Michael Georges]

Mike: I feel your pain. People often have no grasp of what they say.

I once had a woman who asked about the price of a portrait. I told her it was $1,500. She said "Fifteen-hundred dollars! I could buy a lot of scrapbooking supplies for that!"

Mari's driftwood comment is quite appropriate.

[Enzie Shahmiri]

Dear Mike,

Some people can definitely leave you wondering:

[Michele Rushworth]

I did pastel portraits from life in a very crowded public setting for two summers -- and believe me, there was a LOT of driftwood.

Driftwood was actually too kind a term for some of the folks who stopped by. Depending on your setup (I was facing away from the crowd so people could see the work) a few people would behave as if you were not really there or that you were part of the furniture.

I don't remember any of the specific comments (it was a very long time ago) but I learned quickly to ignore it. The comments from the driftwood in the crowd were more than outweighed by the positive things said by the great majority of people who stopped by.

[Jean Kelly]

I like this driftwood analogy. Since reading it here I've come across a lot of pieces that need to be kept moving. No sense to get tangled up in something that is not "mine". Also Mike, medical conditions can not be diagnosed by looking at a picture (except for broken bones etc). There is a range of diagnostic criteria that must be met, that include behavior as well as physical charteristics. People who make diagnosis based on a picture are obviously new medical students, eager to use their skills. The more one learns, the more we realize just how much more there is. Let it go.

Jean

[Mike McCarty]

In a former life I designed and built large custom homes for large custom people. Imagine your worst commission scenario and multiply it by 100. I will handle these little drive by shootings but they will never cease to amaze me.

[Margaret Port]

Mike,

My first reaction was a laugh of disbelief. Pity you weren't able to reply with a "please explain."

There are no limits beyond which the "public" will not reach. Thick skin and deafness are good attributes for an artist.

Some years ago I was demonstrating portrait painting with another artist (a very talented one) when we received lots of advice and negative comments from a "know it all" type. His venom was more directed at her and after some time, she invited him to demonstrate to her how his techniques were so much better than what she was doing (a delicate watercolour.)

He leaped to the paper, slooshed some paint about, stabbed at the canvas a few times and said that she should be "free" and she should note how much the painting was now improved. Betty took one look at the mess he had created, told him about his inadequacies in some detail, invited him to pay for the cost of the watercolour paper he had wrecked, stripped the paper off the board and screwed it up.

The other onlookers cheered while he beat a hasty retreat. She surprised herself as she is the quietest little thing normally.

Another artist I watched doing charcoal sketches spent about half an hour drawing a young woman who squirmed and wriggled incessantly throughout. When he had reached a point where he couldn't do any more (and had spent more time than he had allowed himself), he gave her the drawing with the comment that she should never again inflict herself on a portrait artist as he had beeen doing this line of work for fifteen years and she was the worst subject he had ever drawn.

I don't only know cranky people!!!

[Will Enns]

Feel free to post your experiences.

Visitors to my home often make a beeline for the den, where my 'studio' is, to see what's on the easel. Recently, while I was working on my latest portrait people would often ooh and ahh over this detail or that.

At the same time, I had an experimental, fairly loose watercolor of a local business propped up nearby.

On spotting it, many people zeroed in on it, and said something to the effect, "ohhh, I love that!," forgetting all about the portrait.

I would respond with, "It's my van Gogh."

My wife Dolly, who fails to grasp how anyone could prefer such an artistic faux pas to the more realistic portrait effort would come back with, "I'm hoping it will soon be his van Gone."

[Morris Darby]

I"m quite certain [backing back into the doorway] that this insignificant incident [closing the door] was just an isolated [click...chain lock...deadbolt] incident [hiding my easel] that should in no way [burning my sketch pad] keep any of us [flushing my charcoals] from going out and sketching in public.