I'm in a melancholy frame of mind today. It's nothing to do with my art – as you might have gathered from my recent notes here, the new studio layout has encouraged me to be even more productive – but rather with the business I have to deal with in order to sustain my art.Don't get me wrong: I have no regrets at all about abandoning the commercial gallery system. I have greater freedom and a much higher income. I am also entirely responsible for myself. No, what's getting me down are those parts of my life that are still encumbered by the old system – and the spite and greed of a few, inimical individuals who resent that I chose a path independent of them. I've not written much about the bitter financial and legal fights that, over the past couple of years, have threatened to overwhelm me. Instead, I've 'been there' for some artists who have found their art and their livelihoods under attack from care-less, rapacious exploiters and I've saddled up my high horse to harass the inequities imposed on others by the outmoded thinking and business models of old-school art intermediaries. I've been let down by many on whom I should have been able to depend.
Now, I'm waist-deep in the blood 'n' guts of my own battles. The once sturdy defenses of my bank account have been flattened under the weight of legal and accounting fees.Some days, it all bears down on me hard. I get fed up with the intrusion of this shit into my imagination and the toll it exerts on my energy. I long to be rid of it all. To be somewhere (anywhere) else, naked, unknown, with nothing.