Lessons I've Learned in the Art of Life
A story about curiosity, clarity, purpose, and prosperity found in love
Forgive me for the length of what follows. But I’m inspired by strong coffee and the lessons I’ve learned in the last two weeks selling my artwork. I’m going to tell you about the who, how, what, and why of my “Digital art that warms the heart.”
It’s about being curious, finding clarity, purpose, and prosperity in life, love, and art.
Here’s the backstory
During the pandemic, when the world was gripped by fear, all humans were locked down and into our homes and vans, I discovered a new level of inner artist.
It was an accident.
I was on a long Zoom meeting from hell with a former consulting client. This guy couldn’t and wouldn’t shut his pie hole, let alone listen to me or anyone on his team.
So, I started to doodle pine trees like this one.
Why? Because I was unconsciously avoiding the temptation to crawl through the ether and five finger death punch this dude. It was a stressful time for all of us stuck on this planet before we return to dust, and I was growing sick and tired of trying to help deluded business owners fix their marketing.
As the pandemic thing started sucking worse, and I sat on even more Zoom meetings from hell, I kept doodling. After a while, I started posting some of my doodles when someone said, “Hey, I didn’t know you were an artist. Where did you learn to draw like that?”
Imposter syndrome is real
“Me, an artist? I’m not. I’m just playing around.”
The more I doodled and posted, the more people said similar things. That was 2020. I started to wonder, “Maybe I can learn to paint.”
So, naturally, I fired up YouTube like when I wanted to learn archery and other useful stuff, and started watching artists do their thing. I started playing with watercolors, acrylics, oil paints, and digital painting on my iPad. I started buying sketch pads, colored pencils, and all sorts of art supplies. And in a moment of weakness, I purchased an iPad despite my disdain for Apple.
Janice was amused, and not
Janice, my extremely tolerant wife, watched me splatter paint all over her house because, in my mind, she owns everything. So, I moved into the garage when it was cool enough not to die, and painted in the back yard where I trashed the concrete patio, and continued to watch more YouTube videos, read books, and attend local art shows, making friends with “real artists.”
Curiosity might kill cats, but for humans, it’s the path to learning new things, flailing around, and acquiring useful wisdom. I kept playing, doodling, painting, sketching, and when people said, “Do you sell your work?” I said, “Well, um, sort of.”
I had no clue how to price my early artwork, so I gave the early pieces away, and over time, I learned how other artists charge for their work, which is all over the board. I also learned that the majority of artists have so much head trash, they hardly ever show their work to anyone, and therefore, don’t sell doodly squat.
Retirement seems stupid to me
Okay, that’s the backstory. Fast forward to the last two weeks. I’ve been wrestling with retirement. I quit helping unconscious business owners fix their stupid marketing problems. And considering the first business I built was helping people manage investments and plan for retirement, I already knew how boring it can be once you’re done taking poop cruises and sitting on tour buses that unload at overcrowded tourist traps.
Heck, I’ve been self-employed for over 30 years, which means I get to do whatever I want when I want, which to me pretty much is what happens in retirement. Boredom is against my religion, and I only have about 1,200 weekends left, so I might as well leverage my curious, playful nature and find more fun stuff to do.
I’ve got a few coaching clients, too many bicycles, three grandkids, and lots of free time on my hands. So, I’ve been contemplating what’s next for me. That meant more time to play with art, but what the hell would I do with it?
The night I met my muse during a dream
Then, Saturday night, about two weeks ago, I had a dream. And in the dream, I met a really sexy Polish woman with incredible tattoos and a funny way of speaking English.
As a student of psychology, I knew that Carl Jung would call her my muse. So when I woke up and realized what the dream might mean, it was, “Dude, fire up that Amazing Pet Paintings thing you thought of a few years ago and were too chicken to launch.”
Drinking a small bucket of coffee that Sunday morning helped, too.
Nextdoor, here I come
So, I came up with a silly idea of getting onto Nextdoor, which my wife loves, primarily for all the stupid posts people make about porch pirates and hooligan kids riding wheelies on their e-bikes. Plus, I despise Facebook and Instagram mainly due to my self-loathing and disregard for bots and algorithms that make us angry and dumber.
Within a few minutes of leveraging my magnificent magnifying mind, I had a new Nextdoor profile, wrote a post, included a digital painting of Under Dog Jones, the greatest rescue mutt that ever lived, and it looked like this.
Shortly after that, and just before the thermonuclear heat started scorching the desert, I checked the post and discovered a resounding response.
By noon on Monday, I had five inquiries and one order for a pet painting. I delivered it to the client yesterday, and she loved it.
The dog’s name is Watson, and it’s my client’s daughter and son-in-law. She purchased it as a Christmas gift, way ahead of the consumer curve.
Positive reinforcement provided inspiration and motivation. The more I posted, the more inquiries I got. I even set up a test ad campaign to see if the responses from organic posts would work better than ads. Nobody likes ads, and I’ve learned it’s the organic posts I write from the heart and by the seat of my pants that work the best.
I’m learning the business of art as I discover the art of life. It’s fun, challenging as heck to master the 10,000 nuances of producing these paintings, and I plan to stick with it even though I’m inclined to fire up my consulting pipeline again.
It’s not about the money
Here’s what I’m learning about the art stuff. Unless you’re in the top 1% of “real artists,” no artist can make a living by creating and selling art. No wonder so many artists are starving and depressed. It’s true that during one bad day last week, struggling to produce a decent painting, I wondered what it would be like to whack one of my oversized ears off.
I’m pretty good at marketing and sales, and as a marginal college student with a degree in Economics, I've discovered the real reason God has me on this path as an artist.
The money is okay. I’ve been selling an 8x10 for $145, and an 11x14 for $195 to $240. By the time I frolick with the client image, get the proof approved, upsize it to get ready for printing, send it to my local printer, pick it up, and mail or deliver it to my client, I’m making a bit more than most Uber drivers.
Here’s how I hack these paintings
I can sketch and paint okay. But I suck at drawing like most of us. But the more I sketch, paint, and splatter Janice’s house, the closer I get to living in a tent down by the Salt River.
Because of that, I prefer to use my photography and editing skills and paint digitally. It’s all commissioned work, meaning the client gives me an image. I evaluate the images clients send me, choose one I think I can make work, edit it using software all decent professional photographers use, and then, I go to work painting.
That means I use software to apply a “painterly effect.” It’s software widely available to anyone daring enough to struggle with it, learn it, and produce something of seeming value.
Why it’s not about the money
Late last week, I delivered the painting below to a woman who lives close to my wife’s house. The client initially told me her dog had died, but I didn’t know how. So, when I drove to her house after picking up the print from my local printer, I got the whole story.
Ravenous coyotes had attacked her dog, and the dog was gone. I could feel the trauma leaking from this beautiful, sad woman.
It’s about love
When I showed her the finished painting, it was pure love. We talked for a while in her beautiful, large home, and she thanked me, I thanked her, and left with a whole heart. While driving home, I said to myself, “Now I know why I’m doing this.”
Yes, I’m grateful for the money, but the reactions of each client blow me away. This woman now had a painting she could frame and put on her wall to remember her love for her best friend, who now resides in dog heaven.
I love making these paintings as much as doing the photography and hacking stories that mostly nobody reads. I love the reaction from each client. I love the feeling of love. The pittance of money I make is purely secondary, trust me.
That’s what I’m selling. Not art, but pure love in a fallen, difficult realm for every soul.
Joy is the byproduct of being of service to others
"Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God." — Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
So, here I am, an accidental artist with digital paint on my hands, love in my heart, and a growing collection of stories told through dogs, memories, and digital brushstrokes.
What started as a pandemic doodle became a path to healing, connection, and, strangely enough, clarity of my purpose, and the prosperity that comes from being of service to others.
I’m not here to retire. I’m here to create, to serve, and to remind people, one painting at a time, that love is real, memories matter, and joy is always waiting to be shared.
After all, I’m not just painting dogs. It seems the cat people are somewhat flaky. They ask me to paint a painting, I do, and then, they ghost me.
Oh, well. I’m painting love. And love, when shared, becomes joy.
I’m an author, visual artist, mentor, and strategic guide. Discover how the Clarity S.H.I.F.T. Method™ helps founders, leaders, and professionals to overcome challenges and find clarity, purpose, meaning, and prosperity. Learn more at www.CliffordJones.