UPdate

Hey! Did i mention i sold my first ever painting?
Well, I did.

Me and mum never expected to get anything from setting up our work at an art and crafts weekend in Reepham but a few nice criticisms and helpful tips. We brought our works out onto our board self conciously, agonisingly setting them straight and debating the enormity of the prices we had given our oil painting. We had spent a fair time trying to work out what price would have been a great depiction of the hours we had spent on the pieces, the materials used, the love we had for them.

We got the prices wrong.

After a tension-filled saturday where we both wandered around the rest of the fair and found our work out of the usual band of coinage, we decided to cut the prices...by at least a half.

At the end of the day, we had a few prospective buyers whom seemed genuinely interested, yet the price had lead them away, and then finally, a man looked at one of my pictures, stopped, looked at another artists, before looking back to mine... My hope was high, I felt my breath shallow, but then he walked away.

The next day, he was back, admiring the painting. It was a nice painting; I had spent a lot of adure into its content as it was of my cat, Casper. A chunky fellow of little to no violence, he had recently died due to his big-boned size bringing about a heart attack. Whilst still left with his nephew and sister and fellow house-mate, Casper had always been the most loved of the cats we posessed, and his departure was still greatly felt. I had painted his silver-tabby fatness in a brown basket upon the terracotta kitchen floor; a classic commercial artwork.

The man who was admiring the painting brought forwards his blonde-haired daughter, and proceeded to pass me the £45 needed to exchange the painting to his hands. I couldn't believe it. Shock took over me as I, like a machine, wrapped the canvas in various bubble wrap gauzes, and then handed it to them.

I sold my first painting; I couldn't believe it!

Anyway, the rest of the day went along as usual as we slowly melted from boredom in our chairs. No other artwork sold, we dilligently wrapped up and came away.

I tried to write this in the style of the 1800's, which to me imposed a sense of hyperbolic poeticness which created an inadvertant seperateness from the actions happening
Did it work? =)