I had been painting live on the stage at the sports collector's convention, but my stomach dropped, and my immediate thought was, "Lou wants to tell me my painting sucks and he could eat a tube of paint and crap out a better picture."
As you can see, I have a tendency to prepare for the worst-case scenario.
And, as usual, it turned out to be quite the opposite: Lou was warm and gentle, and I learned that he loved my work and had asked to meet me. He really liked this piece (which a couple of people had brought to the show to get him to sign backstage) and asked me about my inspiration behind it.
"Well, Mr. Brock, have you ever seen that movie 'Back to the Future?' The one with the car that speeds off with the flaming tires?"
He smiled in recognition and laughed softly, "Yes, I do."
I winked at him and said, "I think they got the idea from you."
It was a good day.
***
I wrestled with sending the email in which this blog post originally appeared. See, I wrote everything above about three weeks before Lou and the Cardinals announced that he was battling multiple myeloma, a form of blood cancer.
In the art and sports memorabilia world, a feeding frenzy often follows when a celebrity dies. And this turns my stomach. I got no bones with someone creating a work of art that's a tribute to a celebrity who is important to them. But cashing in on a death? I mean, how many Princess Leia T-Shirt ads have you seen this year on Facebook?
I wanted to share this story because it's a good story, and it shows Lou's kindness and gentleness. Yes, Lou is very much alive, but he's suffering. And I don't feel right benefiting from another person's pain.
Here's my dilemma: is there a way to talk about Lou and my art without seeming like one of the profiteers I just called out? I made that graphic at the top of this email the night I heard Lou was sick, likely as my own way of empathizing with his struggle and dealing with my personal sadness. I considered making it into some kind of fundraising item, yet I still think doing so would blur the line between one person's suffering and another's promotion. Instead, if you want to download a high-res version of that image to show your support for Lou, you can have it for free by clicking here.
So here's what I've decided to do: for any Lou Brock piece you purchase, I'll donate all profits to The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. Even if you don't want to purchase a print, please consider donating to the MMRF, which you can do by clicking here. It's a great foundation, and it has a four-star rating from Charity Navigator.
Maybe I'm being naive, but I prefer to think of it as hope.
And right now, I think Lou and his family could use all the hope we can send.
]]>Remember my last post when I said I took that art therapy class when I was in the middle of a tremendous depression? One of the first pictures I started drawing was a portrait of boy whose sadness just spilled off of the paper. It was so sad, in fact, I couldn't finish it. Instead, I did something that changed everything for me.
I took a page from this guy named Alfred Adler, a therapist who came up with the idea of "acting as-if." Without getting too much into the weeds, it means acting like you're already the person you want to be. Faking it till you make it. I was sad, and the pieces I was creating were sad. I felt like I had been trapped in a cave and was grasping and fumbling for just a sliver of light to tell me I was near the surface. So I said, "Screw it" and started painting like a happy person.
I decided a happy person paint would paint with vibrant colors, so I bought a package of Michaels brightest and threw colors around that looked like Rainbow Brite had sneezed glitter Ebola all over the canvas. But I also wanted to paint a subject that made me happy. So I picked sports--and one of my sports heroes: Walter Payton. And I loosened up: my brush strokes were looser and less about "trying to get it right" and more about having fun.
Here's the before and after.
I'd no idea that one decision would have changed my life, that I would be creating art for a living. Color saved me. Acting as-if saved me. Faking it saved me.
But I knew I couldn't do it just for me: I had to help other people, too. And, you guessed it, that's for the next post.
In the meantime, even if you gotta fake it, go for it.
If I made it, you can, too.
]]>I'm actually an artist by mistake.
Some of you already know this story, so forgive me if you know how this song goes. But here's a confession for those of you who don't: I have no formal training as an artist. I'm self-taught and kind of stumbling and figuring it out as I go along. I'd never even picked up a paintbrush before three years ago. But to tell the story, I need to go to 2012.
I'd quit my day job of a copywriter to pursue the dream of being a therapist because I wanted a career where I was actually helping people. But shortly after I started grad school, my dad died suddenly. And then a few months later, my marriage reached an end. On the heels of these devastating personal losses, I was broke, alone, severely depressed, and trying to figure out how to make my way through grad school.
I literally remember going to a grocery store with a twenty dollar bill and adding up items as I put them in my cart. Needless to say, I ate a lot of Ramen. And not even the good, fancy Ramen that has its own microwaveable containers. I remember staring into my shopping cart filled with $18 worth of food (because tax, right?) and feeling utterly despondent. This piecemeal existence was something I thought I'd left behind when I was in my early twenties. Doing it all over again when I was on the back-nine of my thirties?
It didn't feel good.
I suppose I could have dropped out of my grad school counseling program and gone back to copywriting, but that would have felt like giving up. The shame of failure that came with divorce already felt like too much to bear, so I marshaled ahead willfully. Or stubbornly. Or both.
When my counseling program offered "Art Therapy" as an elective, I took it. And I started to paint.
Before January of 2014, I'd never painted. Yet here I am three years later working as a full-time artist. Yes, I did graduate, by the way, (and I jokingly tell people that I paid $80,000 to find out I was an artist). But even as I finished up my counseling internship, I didn't stop painting.
When you see my work, know that it's the product of all of these: failure, reinvention, rejection, stubbornness, hope, resilience, and lots and lots of stumbling and trying to figure it out.
So how'd I get from broke grad student to full-time, self-supporting artist?
I'll tell you more about that next time. And in the meantime, I'll keep painting. And still probably eating Ramen.
Just the fancy kind.
The first event was a Chris Carpenter signing hosted by Collector's Corner, where fans were able to meet and greet one of the greatest Cardinals pitchers of all-time, just in time for Chris's induction into the Cardinals Hall of Fame that weekend.
The very next day had me at Busch Stadium with a host of current Cards players including Big League Impact founder and host, Adam Wainwright. The picture in this post shows us together with our matchy-matchy phone cases (another story for another time). The goofy expression is all my fault, as, on a whim, I just said, "Like we're posing for our rap album." Immortality ensued.
Next up was San Francisco to spend the afternoon with the Giants' Hunter Pence--who was an amazing host, as he took time to visit with everyone who attended the BLI-sponsored event as we raised money for the Giants Community Fund as well as a number of other amazing charities (not the least of which was the Make-A-Wish Foundation).
I then caught a flight to the complete other side of the country in New York City to hand out with BLI member (and phenomenal fantasy football trash-talker) David Wright. It was my first visit to New York, and David was incredibly gracious and kind, as he took the initiative to introduce himself to me and thank me for my participation in helping raise funds. That's how you win a fan (and an ally) for life, folks.
Even better, all of the BLI guys were kind enough to autograph additional prints so that I can sell them in the store and help continue to raise funds for the charity! Check out the individual player items to see how you can get some for yourself--but act quickly, as the items are SUPER limited!
Needless to say, I'm exhausted, but I'm already gearing up for the next event: fantasy camp with the St. Louis Blues! Stay tuned for more details and behind-the-scenes photos and thoughts!
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