The future of my art

At the height of my social media use I had several dozen Australian, British and American galleries following my work - even major ones such as Marlborough Gallery. Being on social media affected my mental health and I shut it down. I think I ended up completely deleting my Instagram account three or four times.

I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot. I will have to throw out a lot of my work soon. Maybe nearly all of it. Work which represents years of hard work and research. Hours and hours/months/late nights/blood/sweat/tears of painting and self-torture! It has broken my heart.

The paintings aren’t selling. I am being rejected from every open call I apply to. I have nowhere to store the art. Nobody who would look after it if I died. I would rather be the one to throw the work out than die knowing they will be dumped in a rubbish heap unceremoniously as soon as possible after my demise. I have even tried contacting hospitals and hospices to see if they would take the more benign of my paintings and they rejected the work too.

Even though I had many important artists and galleries following me, I was never approached about exhibiting opportunities. I might never have been. It is what it is. I don’t understand how the art world works. I lack the capacity to network.

I believe in my work. In the value of my work. Maybe one day I will wake up and realise that my self-belief was misplaced. Who knows. I am particularly sad about my “Ghosts” paintings, painted in response to the Ukrainian War.

I did consider last year, removing the canvases from the frames, rolling them up and keeping them under my bed. I am at a loss.

I am still making art. I am still working on my art books. I won’t give up. But the paintings have broken my heart and I am bitter about them.