Today's little experiment: playing about with 'underpainting' with pastels and overlaying it with graphite and coloured pencil...

I've just posted this in response to the debate regarding Ben Calvert's take on pricing creative work and the Created in Birmingham shop:

Pricing any kind of creation is a total minefield. I’ve created some visual bits and bobs which are on sale through the shop and have listened to feedback about pricing, what works and what doesn’t. Some work is selling, some isn’t and it’s the higher priced stuff that isn’t in my experience.

As an artist, you set out with a plan that you’ll recoup your time and material costs, divvy it up and add a profit. As economies of scale goes when selling only a small quantity of work, it doesn’t actually work when you stop and look at the customer base. You are selling to a particular kind of consumer – not to a niche market segment. You inevitably live by that sword or fall upon it if your price doesn’t match customer expectations of what they are willing to pay. The rules, as you set them, go out of the window.

It’s a really fascinating debate and one to which there isn’t a perfect answer. But both the shop and the artist have choice, knowledge and expectations. To be in with any chance of success, I’m learning that listening and trying to find that meeting of minds is of eye-opening significance.

Every now and then, I get a niggle. Niggle, niggle, niggle. Get the paints out, it says. No, I respond. More niggling, more resistance. As a child, you couldn't keep me out of paint. Poster paint manufacturers must have loved me. I had no fear of the stuff, only free thought and a willingness to get messy. Paint, paint, paint.

I'm not sure when 'paint' turned into 'niggle'. I'm not sure if it was the complete lack of instruction in the medium through my education that scared me away from it. I'm not sure if it was the overwhelming awe I felt when seeing the work of others and the endless wondering of how to unravel their processes, each time coming to the conclusion that I couldn't do it. But, sure enough, paint became the enemy.

It still is my nemesis, but the desire to confront my demons sometimes gets the better of me. Today was one of those days. Big slab of wood, an idea, and several tubes of hell. I got stuck in. Five hours passed. Within that time, I rediscovered the joy of the immediacy, the challenge of working colour quickly, the power to run with experimentation and the antagonism that the messier result always offers me. And I enjoyed it.

The Distance Between Heaven and Hell (shown below after the first sitting - shonky shot courtesy of my iPhone) is a work in progress......

A few bits and pieces to update you about the Created in Birmingham shop....

My A4 Georgie prints all disappeared through the magic of purchase, which tickles me happy, so I've restocked the shop with some more plus hand-finished A4 prints of Coralie, One Fine Day and two of the ten limited edition Sojourns.

The shop's looking for new work, so if you're in Birmingham (or in close proximity) and have work to sell, check out what they're currently looking for here. It's really come on leaps and bounds in such a short space of time. See for yourself!

Created in Birmingam shop walkthrough from Pete Ashton on Vimeo.

The Created in Birmingham shop is a pop-up shop and, as such, may close as early as May 1st. Why not give it a whirl as either an artist or a shopper. It won't be there forever....