"Tee Time" Painting Benefits Non-Profit Organization

Nit Wits #8: Tee Time

The First Piece of Art I Released into the World
Posted Dec-18-2005
Art, Soul, and Two Tees Having Tea
Well, I did it. I turned one of my Nit Wits comics into a painting and donated it to a local non-profit organization for an annual art benefit in early December 2005.

... But not before taking an endless number of insecure-artist breaths and quadruple-checking myself with the question, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Oh, I wanted to help the cause, but my "art" has never been framed for an official reason and put out for public consumption. For the first time, I experienced the anxious anticipation and fear that so many artists routinely deal with when they decide to make public a private piece of themselves.

I'm not a fine artist. What if people hate it? What if it looks awful? What if I'm waaaay out of my league? What if... what if... what if?

Yes, all of those things can be — and sometimes ARE — true. Art is subjective. Heck, isn't just about everything? People respond differently. People love it. People hate it. But what do I think? Isn't that really the key to being an authentic artist?

The answer to "should I do this?" came from my inner creativity coach: "Yes. You know you want to and life's too short not to. Take the risk. It may very well mean submitting yourself to being criticized and rejected. So what. You'll live. Engage in the process and grow from this experience. Enjoy the journey."

She was honest and right.

History of the Nit Wits "Tee Time" Comic

In 2002 I drew Nit Wits #8: titled Tee Time (see comic at top of page). It was a fun word play on golf tees and a mid-afternoon tea break. What better way to bring them both together than in an animated scene right from a golf course. It was absurd and I loved it.

Besides the creative fun, I used the comic to teach myself how to draw a golf tee. I used a real tee for a model and proceeded to animate it with good ol' googly eyes and a smile. The comic scene unfolded as I allowed myself to get lost in my imagination — the "creative G-spot." One of my favorite parts was inventing my own delicate tea cups for the golf tees to hold. No model there, as evidenced by the too-small cup base that would make a real-world tea cup topple over. Comic Land is much more forgiving.

"Tee Time" Poster Art (Digital)

Turning Digital Art into Traditional (Hand-Made) Art

To create the painting, I tweaked my comic art to fit a large rectangle canvas, adjusted the tea cup bases, and added a new background element not found in the original comic — a golf cart. Then, I transferred the digital drawing onto the canvas grid-style and painted it with acrylic paint. What fun! Really, it was.

This was my grappling trade-off: the digital revision of "Tee Time' was flawless (want a mass-produced poster print?) while the finished painted piece was rough with imperfections. (I've been told that the artist's imperfections is what gives traditional art "character" and makes it more valuable. Okay, I can live with that.)

"Tee Time" Painting (Acrylic)

So What Happened?

I finished the "Tee Time" painting, framed it, and handed it over to the benefit directors. They embraced my art with gratitude and didn't promptly hand it back to me (good sign). Actually, one laughed and complemented me on its "whimsical-ness." Bless her little heart.

A few weeks later I attended the art benefit. Everyone who attended as an "art taker" had the opportunity to take a piece of art home. The choices were made by a drawing, so an "art taker" was to choose a piece when their name was drawn during the evening. Obviously, names drawn first had more prime art choices than names drawn later. At the end of the benefit, art pieces still available after the drawing could be purchased individually at the same price each.

There was an amazing variety of art donated to this benefit. Paintings, photography, woodworking, and altered art were intermixed among pottery, sculptures, and clothing items. Skill levels varied as well as the value of each piece. But as far as the benefit went, all of the art was available to art takers at the same price: the cost of a ticket.

"Tee Time" was displayed under spotlights on a table with an official card bearing the artist's name (mine) and title of the piece. Talk about acting as if. After contemplating my piece for a moment, and realizing what I had done, I skimmed by it and soaked up everyone else's. I suddenly became aware that I was experiencing myself as two halves: my own worst critic and a loving art connoisseur when it came to looking at other people's art. I wonder if the other artists present were feeling the same kind of duality. From the corner of my eye I noticed several people enjoying the humor of my painting. In that moment I realized how much courage it takes to watch other people react honestly to your work. I made myself scarce.

Though I naturally felt out of my league as an artist at this benefit, I found out that one couple took "Tee Time" home that night. It was purchased after the drawing — and there were still other pieces of art left over after the event.

I was elated. Someone chose my piece of art, and not because they had to. "Tee Time" is now part of somebody's private collection — perhaps hanging on a wall humoring those noticing the googly-eyed golf tees. And as I wonder what their reason for choosing it was, perhaps they look at the picture and wonder "what motivated the artist to create this?" The mystery of not knowing in either scenario is the wonderment and beauty that art creates in this world. For certain, I will always be an art appreciator, more so with the insight that I've gained through this experience as the artist for the first time.

Will I do it again despite the anxiousness, fear, duality, and unknowing how others will react to my work? You bet. Creating art, a piece of writing, or some other imagination manifestation not only gives life to new forms that didn't exist before, but gives life back to its creator. For some, the end of their freedom to create means the end of life itself. (© 2005 Chris Dunmire) •