Comments heard in art studios

During the Noughties (2000s), I had my own art studio in Noordhoek, where I would paint in public view and sell the work myself. Being on the spot could be either beneficial or detrimental, depending on your point of view. People would come in and not notice me behind my easel and pass comments, some complimentary and some rather rude, and I learned to take the good with the bad. Without my own studio, I acknowledge that I may have had some difficulty selling as many paintings as I did, as it can be very difficult to be accepted by galleries if you have no formal training and are not 'well-known', not to mention just not good enough. But I can proudly say that I achieved a measure of success through my own studio and through galleries despite the premium prices in the latter, which do not reach the artist.

Some of the comments became so hackneyed that I felt I should write them down and after all this time, I have found a use for the notes I made, which I came across today while scratching through some papers. I would love to share them with you, together with my interpretation:

'I'll buy it when I win the Lotto' - I won't hold my breath, it's never going to happen.
'I'll bring my husband/wife to see it' - there is no money in the bank.
'My husband will love it!' - highly unlikely. He'll peep round the corner and retreat before I notice him.
'I'll fetch it tomorrow' - definitely won't be back.
'I'm an artist. I couldn't buy someone else's work' - oh please, how dull your life must be.
'I can paint it myself' - Excuse me? Plagiarism?
'Do people actually buy this stuff? - Yes, actually.
'I'd rather die than buy that!' - Madam, guaranteed.

It's not that I mind if someone doesn't like what I produce; after all, I can only do what I am capable of, but to pretend to like it and feel obliged to make some kind of promise to return and buy it is really unnecessary. If people didn't have different tastes, there would be no need for more than one artist in the world, and the last thing I would want was to have my paintings on a wall that doesn't want them.

I like to think that it gave them a sense of encouraging me not to give up hope!

And what happened to the studio? For every thing there is a season, and I moved on to a new pasture to let that field recover for a few years. But the grass is growing again.
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