Drawing Pictures

Janus puts all his efforts into creating his works of art – drawings of the world as it could be or could have been, or creating visual fantasy. He draws and paints pictures of people who are beautiful; wearing the clothes of culture and satisfaction. He depicts future people who are wise and kind. Also he creates buildings of great beauty and extravagance, the way the world could be.

He went to a party somewhere in the big city, meeting people who reckoned they were wise. They were streetwise credible people who knew how to get around who told him he ought to sell some of his works.

“Oh I do like that Janus. How did you create that? Was it in your mind or did you copy it? Whatever it was well drawn!” This was a ‘plastic’ girl who had never held a pen or a brush in her life, but she was attractive and sociable, and she had a lot of friends, and she knew a lot about most things, or reckoned she did. Well if she liked it he was flattered. She might not be highly artistic but she said she liked it, so he thought if it could appeal to her it could appeal to many.

“You could make a lot of money out of these”, said another who sounded as if he knew about these things. “I have my own business and I know about taking opportunities. All you have to do is find the right market and advertise to it. You might just be able to persuade a publisher to print you a book of these pictures, perhaps with words explaining the pictures. It might just make you a lot of money.”

“I wonder if you as a businessman might be able to publish it for me, or invest in it so I can pay for it to be published?” suggested Janus, buoyed by a new sense of optimism.

“Well its not one I could be involved in,” backtracked the businessman. “I don’t have the detailed publishing knowledge or experience. I’m not actually in publishing myself. Nor do I actually have spare funds at the moment. But I’m sure somebody will. Keep trying. You have a great talent.”

“What line of business are you actually in?” asked Janus.

“I have my fingers in a few pies,” said the man. A few years ago I had a corner shop, but I went bust. I went into property development and I made a lot of money with some good investments. The credit crunch squeezed me a bit, but at the end of the day property will always be worth something and I don’t believe I can lose in the long run, as long as I play it right. If I can’t sell apartments at the right price to make a reasonable profit I’ll stick tenants in there. You can’t lose, once you own a few properties!”

Janus wasn’t quite sure if the man was really the right person to advise him on what to do with his drawings. He had obviously never tried to sell anything of an artistic nature himself. But the man came back a few seconds later, with some more suggestions.

“You might be able to use them in some advertising for other products. Sell the rights to the use of them. They would provide a great backdrop for a car advert or an advert for choosing a college or university, or some new exotic cuisine. Anything, there are all sorts of marketeers trying to shift all sorts of products who like to attach to some sort of fine art or visual creativity.

As he spoke to yet more partygoers, intellectuals and business people he received more advice, mostly very enthusiastic and optimistic. Janus tried to sell his work, contacting some potential publishers or purchasers. Nearly everyone liked what he had done. Some wanted to enjoy it for free; no one actually wanted to pay for it. He did not have the connections. No one wanted to buy it for adverts even though he did not like that idea much.

In the end however he was able to sell one of his works to a collector for a couple of hundred. “The best you can get, unless you’ve got a Rembrandt, or a Lowry (Lancashire stick figures industrial), or a Pollock!”

He didn’t like hearing his own work compared unfavourably with the last artist who he hardly regarded as an artist for those awful drip paintings which he felt even the most ignorant child might have been able to do, but somehow Pollock’s work had this high value which many more genuine artists or appreciators could hardly understand.

Janus sold the drawing and put the money in the bank, but soon there was nothing left of it as he paid for some car repairs and there were the usual grocery household bills which soon added up to far more than he received for all of his intense creativity. Was his beautiful drawing worth less than a quarter’s gas and electricity, or the cost of a few simple repairs on his vehicle? Even his petrol consumption for the month was nearly as costly as the money he received for the sale of one of the greatest achievements of his life , the fruition of his bubbling creativity. He felt loss, growing stronger every day after the sale. Would his work be consigned to a storage cupboard, or would the new owner put it on display in his home and show it with pride to his guests. He would never know now, unless he went to visit the new owner. Quite probably he might find the drawing sold on to someone else’s collection or auctioned off one day for even less than the price he had achieved for its sale.

He wished quite clearly now that he had never sold the painting. He missed its presence on his own wall, and wished he had made more copies of the same size. He had sold his creativity for what was clear to him now was a small sum. He would have paid many more pounds than he had received, double, treble, many times more perhaps, for what he valued himself more highly than anything. He felt as if he had sold a part of his own soul!