Category: Business of Art (Page 1 of 4)

The Dalmatian Cooler

I could’ve sworn this cooler was blue yesterday, I thought to myself.

Standing in our kitchen, I was looking at the small cooler we often use to haul gatorade, ice, and cooling towels for our son’s baseball. My eyebrow was gently cock-eyed as my mind tried to decipher what exactly I was looking at here. 

The cooler was looking like a reverse Dalmatian. It had obvious white spots on what had previously been a pristine royal blue exterior.

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The 12 Gallon Mural

“Yay, networking,” my artist wife said last September.

She was sitting in the corner of our living room in her navy blue easy chair. She had completed a mural the previous week. In my super casual, completely stealth, I’m-hunting-for-story-inspiration way, I was asking her about how the opportunity had come about in the first place.

Apparently, the opportunity to paint this mural came about quickly. And it came with the added pleasure of collaborating with another artist. 

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The Live Painting

My artist wife walked in the backdoor, dragged herself up the four stairs to our main floor, and flopped herself face first on our couch. 

She never even made it to her blue easy-chair in the corner of the living room. 

It was late. She had just driven 35 minutes home to our prairie suburb after spending five hours on display.

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The Crazy Train — Pt. 2

We found the ever-elusive parking spot in the outdoor lot and climbed out of the car. Immediately, both kids began a game to see who could contract the most diseases by touching every metal signpost, fire hydrant, bike rack, and garbage can in sight. 

At least they weren’t licking them. 

Never mind. Spoke to soon. 

After I finished laying down the ground rules — touching ok, licking not — we continued our adventure to find my artist wife’s white tent in a sea of white, art-fair tents. 

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The Roof Rack

We have a monster of a roof rack. It’s a beast of a creature that has lived in our two-car garage for over four years, hanging off to one side and taking up valuable yard-tool space. 

It’s made of untreated lumber held together by metal “L” brackets with wood cross bracing.

Like a long-distance relative, it showed up suddenly and unannounced. And, it hasn’t left since. 

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The Flash Slothmore

“Hey, can you come down to the studio for a minute, I want to ask what you think about something?” my artist wife said after popping her head around the corner into our living room.

Looking around to see who she was talking to, I realized I was the only one sitting there.

And then, after looking around again for anyone else I could pin this activity on, I realized I was entirely alone. The kids weren’t around and there wasn’t even anyone walking past on the sidewalk through our picture window.

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