About About Underpaintings.com
Underpaintings Magazine is an online periodical which celebrates excellence in Representational Art â€“ Past, Present, and Future.
Subscriptions to Underpaintings are $24 a year.Â That is just $2 a month â€“ much less than what most of us are willing to pay for a single cup of name-brand coffee. Â Please consider joining, so together, we can promote our wonderful art-form.
A Letter from the Editor, Chief Cook, and Bottle-Washer.
When I began writing Underpaintings in 2006, it was â€“ in part â€“ a reaction to a dilemma I was facing. Â It was just a few months before the expected birth of my second son, and I knew that with his arrival, my art career â€“ for all intents and purposes â€“ would be coming to an end.
My wife and I had always expected that having the family we had always wanted would require sacrifices on both our parts.Â And though I had known for some time that the upcoming end to my painting career was unavoidable considering our circumstances, it did not make facing my departure from painting any easier. Â The state of emotional turmoil I felt at the time was just awful: Â I was devastated that the separation from my passion was imminent, and I was also guilt-ridden that I could not feel the full joy I should have been experiencing while welcoming a second, healthy child into our family.Â I felt selfish and lost and not very good about myself.Â Â There was, of course, so much in my life to thankful for, and I knew that after retiring from some other occupation there was still the possibility I might pick up the brush again, but such placations and far off promises did little to improve my feelings at the time.Â I simply did not want to say good-bye to art, and yet I knew I had to.
At about the same time I was dreading my art-free future, a friend of mine who was unaware of the difficulty I was experiencing, suggested I start writing a blog. Â She had just begun her own about painting, and she thought that I too might have something to contribute to the blogosphere. Â I had my doubts, but, I decided to give it a try.Â It would be my personal, one last dip in the artistsâ€™ swimming pool.
Choosing a target audience for this new blog was easy; Â I decided to write it for my younger self. Â Like so many of my generation, I had attended a university looking for an art education, only to be disappointed by the lack of practical training. Â After being graduated, I spent years teaching myself the actual practice of painting through reading, study, and as much practice as I could fit in.Â But by the time I was almost feeling capable of creating the art I had always wanted to make, I also found myself at the premature curtain-call of my career. Â So when I began to write, I chose to share the knowledge that I wished I had learned in college, but had had to learn on my own.Â In so doing, I hoped that I might be able to reach out and help young artists who were still in school and who were feeling as frustrated as I had been when I was in their shoes. Â It was my sincere hope that by sharing what I had gained in the intervening years since art school, that I could give younger artists a leg-up.Â I hoped that when these students were older and possibly considering families of their own, that their art careers would be further ahead than mine was when I had faced my own career crisis.
I had anticipated publishing about a dozen posts, and that by the last one, I would be at a loss for topics and exhausted from writing. Â The blog, I assumed, would then remain on the internet forever, and â€“ if over the course of time â€“ it helped a couple-of-dozen people, I could at least say that I had done my part in giving back to the art world.
I never expected that so many people would discover Underpaintings, nor that so many would find something of value in it. Â I also never expected that I would find myself enjoying creating the articles as much as I do.
From the start, I made a commitment to myself and to the reader, to make Underpaintings a reliable and good source for information. Â But to be able to create something of which I am proud takes a lot of time. Â Between generating ideas, gathering material, doing research, and actually writing, I spend hours and hours per day working on content. Â Unfortunately, over the course of the first half-decade of writing it became more and more difficult to allocate the time that I felt was so necessary to the creation of Â Underpaintings. Â Obligations to my day job, responsibilities to my family, and the need to sleep at least four hours per night, took up the majority of each of my days. Â At a time when I felt like the blog should have been expanding, it was instead shrinking due to the decreased time I was able to dedicate to its maintenance.
After seeking out much advice, and deliberating over my options for more than two years, I decided that my best chance to keep Underpaintings going was to monetize it as a subscription service. Â This was not an easy decision for me to make. Â It had never been my intention to ask anyone to pay for the information I provided, but it became a necessary evil; Â without remuneration, I would not be able to buy back the time from my schedule that was necessary to continue publishing Underpaintings.
I decided to offer subscriptions to Underpaintings for $24 a year. Â That is just $2 a month â€“ much less than what most of us are willing to pay for a single cup of name-brand coffee. Â The proceeds from these sales go toward things like replacing the outdated and damaged equipment I use to do my work, and to pay for services like high-speed internet service and online data storage, as well as for things like babysitting, which occasionally provide me with a few more hours per week so that I can write.
For all of you who have read Underpaintings in the past or in its current form, you deserve my many thanks for your support and encouragement. Â I am truly grateful that you helped me to find a way to remain in the arts at a time when I had seen no such possibility in my future.
If you have any questions, please contact me.
Matthew D. Innis