Free Art
For a while now, I’ve been wrestling with what to do with my art. I’ve decided to let go of the dream of turning my creations into a money-making venture, but that leaves me with a different conundrum: what do I do with the ever-growing collection of pieces I’ve amassed? Paintings, tiles, masks, ornaments—whatever medium has caught my attention—are piling up, and the question looms: what on earth do I do with it all?
Our home is already filled with my work. Photographs from my adventures decorate the walls, custom pour paintings bring color to our zen-inspired guest bedroom, and a handful of paintings adorn The Oodlearium. At work, the walls of my office and much of the shelter are covered in my creations. I’ve even gifted many pieces to colleagues and friends. Despite these efforts, the stacks remain. This dilemma has held me back from diving into new artistic pursuits, like glassblowing or pottery. I’d love to try them, but I’m haunted by the same question: what do I do with everything I make?
This practical concern nudged me toward watercolors. A basic watercolor kit is portable: a few primary colors, water brushes, a pad of paper, and a pen. I can take it anywhere—on a plane to visit family, while waiting in an airport, or during a quick brain break at work. It’s a perfect medium for creating on the go. But even with watercolors, the familiar issue arose: stacks of journals now fill the shelves of The Oodlearium. What do I do with all of it?
Then I remembered my friend George (check out his magical work here.) We met through a mutual connection at the Oddball Art Lab, an organization dedicated to keeping the art scene in Elgin—my hometown—weird. (You can check out my first set of art blocks for their repurposed cigarette machine here.) Years ago, George introduced me to the idea of leaving free art around for others to find. At the time, I was focused on selling cards at craft shows. (Spoiler alert: that didn’t pan out.)
Fast-forward to this past December and I was becoming keenly aware of my ever-growing pile of watercolor doodles. One day, George posted on Facebook about heading out to place more art, and I decided it was time to follow his lead. I packed a bag with art and carried it around for weeks, hoping to leave pieces behind during my coffee shop meetings or trips around Elgin. I even lugged the bag to Phoenix, inspired by the idea of new places. Despite my intentions, I only managed to hang one piece in a coffee shop before bringing the rest home. Frustrated, I vented to George, who suggested we plan an art-leaving adventure together.
After a few scheduling hiccups, we finally connected with another local artist, Starla Sneed, early in January. My goal was simple: learn from George. I picked Itasca because it was geographically convenient and had a coffee shop I liked (Check out Fulla Beans next time you are in the area). George suggested bagging the pieces in Ziploc bags since it was winter, and they might be outside for a while. I added a business card and a doodle with an inspirational phrase. With 12-15 unique pieces each, we were ready to share our art with the world.
We met at the coffee shop on one of the coldest days of year. It was busy enough that we left a few pieces on a table. When we returned later, they were gone. Encouraged, we moved on to the library, leaving several pieces there, followed by a quick stop at the Metra station. Unfortunately, the biting cold cut our adventure short. In total, we distributed about 45 pieces of art.
George mentioned that he rarely gets responses, though occasionally someone will reach out to say they found a piece and that it made them smile. That’s been my goal with art all along: to make people smile. I sincerely hope our little bags of joy brighten someone’s day. We’re already planning to do it again—hopefully when the weather is more forgiving!
