Hyperallergic Is Good For Soul Show and Indifferent to Patronage, But I Love My Soul, So Thank You New York Blogazine

Hyperallergic has been posting me lately. If I had supernatural powers I would turn that New York enthusiasm into more paint and canvas. If there is a gallerist or curator out there who desires a hard-working, on time, humble-yet-talkative show painter, who has an endless yarn of tales to tell about his work, then please consider hosting an exhibition. I have posted a picture of success at opening night parties. You can use it to size my wig. Thank you.


I am the laughing man with the tie.


Here is why it is impossible for me to make money. The price list introduction for my last show:

Okay. I must disclose this.

I am a terrible failure at making money.

I can’t even barter well. In the past I have asked for olive oil, chain saw lessons, French wine—it is nigh impossible to wrestle money, or even goods, for art out of normal people of modest means. I even offered to trade a painting at my last show to anyone willing to say “Ron Throop, great painter” daily for one month to different people each time. I feel rotten pricing anything, but know that ArtRage cannot continue indefinitely to provide quality shows with food and flowers without bones thrown to administration once in a while.

Therefore I have priced these works at the cost to my wife, who supports my acrylic painting habit, with an added 40% of bones with meat still left on for ArtRage. I charge $10/hour for my time. I have eliminated my usual 30% element “X” fee added to time and cost of materials. The element “X” fee, also known as “fool’s buck”, is that portion of total cost that compensates beyond what repeated narcissistic failure can appropriate to any idiot with a free hand. Please reach into your wallets and support ArtRage. The money I make will not help my future so much as to pay a debt to my past. I know there is value to any Throop you purchase today. At 48 years of age, I have a clean bill of health and a work ethic that would make John Calvin shame-faced so much to lock his own head in the pillory. I will continue to produce like a hummingbird on speed. I will not die until Rose (my wife) has an archive that will give her a big fat bargaining chip for her next husband to salivate over. If a painting you like is out of your range, please buy a book, or ask me to jig for nickels (ArtRage will still get its cut).

Thank you.


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