My goal is to publish an art book every 3 years, and since my last book, The Unforeseeable Future, came out in 2022, this is the year for my new release! The new book is entitled Make Something Real. Like all of my books from Imperfect Things onward, the title comes from one of the artworks I made during the time that the book covers. 2022 to 2024 was definitely an interesting time! The blurb and an excerpt are below:
Is a life put on hold still a life worth living? Torn between wanting to participate in art shows and not wanting to get exposed to COVID, I was haunted by the feeling that life was passing me by. I felt like I was living my life in captivity, missing all its forgone pleasures. This wasn’t the future I wanted. This wasn’t the world I wanted to live in. I wasn’t the woman I wanted to be. Being an artist was a leap of faith and I was getting tired of jumping.
In a world of artifice and denial, what still mattered? The pursuit of normal at any cost had led to a culture of complacency and resignation, warnings unheeded, lessons unlearned. The aftermath of an ongoing crisis that most of the world deliberately ignored was a time of missed opportunities and impossible choices. Just when I needed them the most for publicity, the internet platforms I had come to rely on made it harder for my work to be seen, as tech disruption left upheaval and destruction in its wake. Would my newfound social media sites and online communities help me connect with a new audience, or would my participation in them only further tech oligarchs’ nefarious goals?
Though making art is my escape, this book is also about what I was trying to escape from. Finding solace in creating art in a world on the precipice of disaster, I have made this book an archive of three years of art, grief and grievances.
A Change of Pace
While I was working from home, I didn’t feel as though I’d put my life on hold. I spent my days luxuriating in caftans and peignoirs while I listened to podcasts and worked on projects in my downtime. I had been able to enjoy the comfort of my home in the scarce winter daylight, and find solace in domesticity for the first time in my life. I discovered many small pleasures, like ironing the curtains that I made for my windows at home and for my studio, drinking water from my designer glass carafe, and staying indoors as the snow piled up outside and soup simmered for hours in my slow cooker. Up until then, I’d never purchased a pair of fuzzy slippers. Clothes to wear to art shows or to work had always taken priority. But I treated myself to a pair.
My social life had once revolved around attending and hosting public events. Now that I was avoiding those settings, I was finally getting comfortable things to wear around the house. I am an introvert, but not a homebody. I had dedicated my free time to seeking inspiration, getting my name out there, and taking advantage of living in a big city. I had tried to make sure that I took the “Artist Dates” that Julia Cameron prescribed in The Artist’s Way. I used to scroll through Eventbrite regularly, searching for networking events that I could go to after work. Spending time at home had once meant missing out on art shows, museum exhibits, trade shows, book signings, and film festivals. But in 2022, spending time at home meant that the only things I was missing out on were exposure to a strange new virus and the possibility of being the victim of a crime. People were being robbed and shot in places and at times where those crimes had not usually happened before the pandemic began.
1/6/22
One thing I've realized is that it's not enough for my home to be merely neat. I need it to be interesting.
Between 2020 and 2021, I had created the kind of environment I wanted to be immersed in. I hadn’t made this a priority before. Instead, I thought it was enough to have a studio that was my home away from home. But now things were different.
The boundaries I’d put up around myself to avoid infection were also protecting me from a barrage of unpleasant unsolicited interactions undermining my confidence for years I hadn’t noticed until then. I had also come to realize that I worked better when I was well-rested, so I didn’t work on anything when I was too tired anymore. As a result, I felt more efficient and competent. Tasks that once seemed too daunting to begin ended up going smoothly. Being able to get up an hour and a half later also helped. So did taking naps in my own bed. I was taking things one day at a time. The only big plan I made for 2022 was to publish an art book before it was over.
Since I wasn’t going to my art studio, I had set up an area in my home where I could make art. I put a secretary desk in my bedroom and kept all the materials I needed to make mini collages there.
I decided to limit my artistic media to cut paper and glue sticks at home because I’m a messy painter. I made mini collages on small panels of wood about the size of business cards.
I had always preferred to sell my mini collages at in-person events. Now I wasn’t sure when I would feel safe enough to participate in one. So instead, I scanned them and made print-on-demand products for my Zazzle store.
I cherished my solitude and autonomy and occasionally wondered if this was what my life would be like if I were retired. But working from home was only a temporary situation for me. It was a precautionary measure my company had taken as the Omicron variant of COVID-19 took its toll in December of 2021.
The plan was to return to the office in late February. And unlike so many other plans made in vain since 2020, this one came to fruition. There was no way around it, and I couldn’t afford to quit. As everyone was able to witness when it aired on national TV in January 2022, I hadn’t won anything on The Chase, the game show where I could have gone home with $100,000, but lost it in the last round.
Nor did my 42 minutes of fame lead to any art sales or new design clients. And the holiday pop-up art show I did at a mall in a far northern suburb yielded very few sales. I retrieved my ornaments and artwork feeling defeated.
But much to my pleasant surprise, I made a big art sale through an online gallery specializing in work by Black artists.
Eleven years after I painted it, I had finally sold Cerulean Rhapsody, my largest painting. It needed to be shipped as soon as possible, during my first week back in the office, to be exact. So I got up early and drove to the studio to retrieve the painting, then to FedEx to ship it, then discovered they didn’t have a box big enough for it and had no choice but to patronize the Home Depot (which I’d been boycotting since 2005) across the street to get a TV box. Then I drove to work...
As an artist with a day job, mornings this hectic weren’t unfamiliar to me prior to 2020. But once I finally sat down at my desk, I wondered how had I lived my life at such a fast pace before.
I plan to have a book launch during the opening celebration for my solo show. The details are as follows:
Friday, September 12, 2025
5 p.m. - 9 p.m.
The Fine Arts Building, Second Floor Gallery
410 South Michigan Avenue
Downtown Chicago
Come get your signed copy!
Can't make it? You can also order it online: www.TiffanyGholar.com/real
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