I don't know if you've had this experience, but it can be awkward to pose as a gallery assistant while people casually talk about your work, not knowing you're the artist. I was impressed that people spent time reading every word I had stitched, laughed out loud at a lot of my less flattering dating moments, and brought their friends to see my work.
I tried to find ways to interject myself in conversations without being overbearing or feeling shy. It wasn't easy. In talking about my work, I generated so many new ideas. Thank you art fair visitors!
Seeing my work sell, and getting reports from Muriel about sales, has made me both ecstatic and sad. I will go so far as to say I feel betrayed by my own artwork. I started the hand stitched portion of "Were I So Besotted" because I was heartbroken. I have continued to stitch stories about men I have been involved with, all the while hoping one would materialize who would be a loving and reasonable partner. Seeing people identify with my work enough to take it home is wonderful. But I am reminded that my search for an emotional home in another person is not resolved. Each stitch I make is a form of wounding and healing fabric, just like dating and starting over.
The image above is the start of a new piece. "He Left Me Because of My Underwear," (or something like that).