I'm not big into New Year's Resolutions.

I know, lots of people say that, but I actually mean it. I don't deliberately make promises -- to myself or others -- that I can't keep.

That being said, there's no reason why we can't pursue improving ourselves -- all through the year -- and if an arbitrary date spurs us into trying to make  positive changes in our lives, then Happy New Year, everyone.

The key thing about successfully making changes, however, is reality, something distinctly missing from our brains after four weeks of too much chocolate, alcohol, drearily depressing office parties and too little exercise, sleep, and time with a good book. Too often, when we set our goals, we set up unrealistic ones -- not because they're too big, but because achieving them is beyond our control.

Like this favorite:

"I'm going to lose ten pounds."

How?

By eating better? By exercising more? Even if you succeed at this, you may or may not lose ten pounds, because what you drop in fat you may gain in muscle. Ultimately, you cannot control whether you lose those ten pounds, but you can control what you do in your plan to get there: you can eat better. You can exercise more. And by doing so, you may lose ten pounds.

So let's put this into the life of the artist, (who may, or may not, incidentally, want to lose ten pounds):

"I'm going to improve my sales this year!"

How?

By advertising more? By participating in more shows? By attending every artist's reception in a 35-mile radius and hobnobbing with the gallery staff (easy on the truffles and cookies, by the way, or you may gain ten pounds)?

These latter three are actions that you can control, and they may or may not result in increased sales, which you ultimately can't control.

I think our fascination with New Year's resolutions arises from a sense of discontent with where we are, and the perception (accurate sometimes, inaccurate others) that our dissatisfaction with our lot stems from some lack, some failure on our part. So, at the end of an old year and the beginning of a next, we list out all the things we want to change so that, by this time next year, we'll be stronger, better, faster, richer.

But improving ourselves is a lifelong process, and the ultimate gain in who we are is the result of deepseated changes at the core of our being: it's not that we're thinner, or more popular, or wealthier, or the possessor of two thousand Facebook followers, it's that we're kinder and more patient, smiling more and frowning less, thanking the person who bags our groceries, offering the benefit of the doubt to the idiot who just cut us off in traffic, listening to a child's loooooooooonnnnnnnng convoluted story of last night's dream when we really want to check our e-mail.

Those slow, deepseated changes -- which arise through little decisions we make as we move through the day -- through time transform us into different, better people who approach our art each day in a different, better way.

The changes may or may not result in better sales and a slimmer physique, but better sales and a slimmer physique, regardless of what we think, do not make us happier people. Being better people, deeper, more genuine people who are solid to the core, is a solid step toward finding what we're looking for.

Happy New Year, Everyone!

It is popular to say -- so that no one feels bad -- "We are all artists!"

But we're not, really, any more than that we are all physicists, or all machinists, or all five star chefs. Art, like any profession, requires discipline, study, aptitude, perseverence, and work, and I've delved into this more deeply in We Are Not All Artists, (Epoch Times, June 13, 2011).

But not to despair -- while there may not be an artist within each of us, there is art, and each one of us is an individual, created work of beauty that may or may not look attractive to the world outside. It all depends, really, with what we do with the inside of ourselves.

When an artist paints or sculpts a subject, he spends time looking at the subject, studying it, with the goal of translating the essence of that subject to the canvas or the clay. The more successfully the artist 1) figures out the subject and 2) tranlslates it to artistic form, the more successful the finished piece.

Ironically, the more an artist concentrates on a "message" or "statement," the less pleasing the finished project, because too much of the artist and his opinions and beliefs and prejudices, as opposed to the essence of what he is painting or sculpting, comes through. In another twist of irony, when the artist successfully focuses on the subject, the artist, in his own essence, successfully emerges as well. His message makes it, almost in spite of himself.

So it is with the art inside of us. When we focus on others -- the people in our lives, both good and bad, with their problems and dreams and joys and sorrow -- we create brushstrokes and color in our own souls that make us into better people, happier people, more content, at peace, and stable.

And yet, when we pursue happiness as our primary goal, we are like the artist who propounds his message, his thoughts, his opinions and shoves them into the painting or sculpture -- the more we actively seek to be happy, the less so that we are. The more we seek the happiness of others, the more we find it in ourselves.

In Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass, the main character, Alice, finds that, in order to get where she really wants to go, she has to head in the opposite direction, because when she beelines toward her objective, she constantly finds herself back where she started.

We live in a Looking Glass world, a beautiful place with terrible imperfections, a reflection of a better place not marred by those imperfections. Like Alice, in order to get where we want to go, we must sometimes do the opposite of what makes sense, because much of what makes sense to us is based upon on desire to take care of ourselves, our needs, our wants, our desires.

These can be met, but only if, like the artist, we focus outside ourselves and on the subjects in our lives.

You'd think that with an artist in permanent residence, there would be ample paintings for the walls, even if we do get to enjoy them only until they're sold. But the Norwegian Artist, like many artists, enjoys collecting the works of colleagues, especially those whom we get to know personally, or, e-personally.

To this end, I was at a gallery last week and was just at the point of purchasing a miniature by a talented watercolorist. But I decided to go to lunch first and finalize the purchase in my mind. (This is another great reason for artists to purchase art -- you begin to understand the mindset of a purchaser and see that you, too, do not lightly and impulsively undertake the additions to your collection.)

"How long are you open?" I asked the gallery associate.

"Three p.m.," he answered.

So off I went for Thai red curry beef and coconut ice cream with black bean sauce (this latter is oddly tasty, not remotely resembling refried beans over ice cubes). At 2:40 I was back -- to a closed gallery.

While apparently, according to a second associate, it had been a slow day, this really isn't a good reason to close up shop 20 minutes, or even five minutes, early. In our little town, we have a bakery that is successful through no efforts of its own, since it regularly runs out of popular items, employs baristas who cannot make the same two coffee orders resemble one another, and indiscriminately closes early when things feel slow and everyone just feels like wandering on home.

Do not try this in your own business.

Maybe you're like us, with a studio open by appointment and with much of your communication done via e-mail, phone, and the website -- in this case, while your day doesn't necessarily run from 8 to 5, you also don't have to be on board 24/7. You just have to be on top of things enough to respond well within a business day to an inquiring client or gallery. While I may send an inquiry out at 11 p.m. on a Friday, I sure don't expect a response until Monday or Tuesday, and most people are of the same level of reasonability.

But if you do have regular, posted hours, will you please keep them?

Regarding that watercolor, I still want it, and it's not the artist's fault that the place closed early. I will, however, let him know, so that he can let his gallery know, and hopefully, I can enjoy a green chicken curry this time, polished off by more coconut ice cream and black bean sauce, with a final dessert of that gorgeous little watercolor.

Steve Henderson Fine Art is always open for business, and thanks to the web, his products can be purchased through Fine Art America 24/7.

He has

throw pillows for sale

tote bags for sale

shower curtains for sale

duvet covers for sale

t-shirts for sale

all on his Steve Henderson Fine Art America site.

While a miniature in the art world is just what it sounds like -- a small painting or sculpture -- just how small depends upon the gallery or show in which the work finds itself. Some events limit a miniature's painting size to 36 square inches or less (as in a 6 by 6, unframed painting). Others are more generous in their dimensions, and many miniature shows in which we have been involved classify a miniature as under 108 square inches, unframed (think, 9 x 12 or less).

Miniatures also vary in how complex and detailed they are -- some, painted with a small, small brush, are detailed indeed, but then the price -- to compensate for that level of detail -- is higher as well. Others, done more loosely and quickly, reflect this in a very reasonable price, one perfect for a Christmas or birthday or general gift to oneself or to another. Miniatures are a great way to afford original art and start a collection of one particular artist, or many.

Another reasonable means to start or add to a private collection is the study, which some artists paint -- in small form -- before they embark on the larger, more complex painting. Steve keeps his studies, most of which are under 64 square inches, right next to the fullsize painting as he is working on it, and they serve as the color palette for the larger work. He frequently enters and sells these studies in miniature shows, many of which are conveniently around the holidays, just in time for Christmas giving.

Now for the holidays, Steve has miniatures in Planet Bronze Galleries, Bozeman, MT (Emerald Dreams (study), Awakening (study), and Summer Breeze (study) and The Maritime Gallery at Mystic Seaport (Coastline, Al Fresco).

Great question.

As you may suspect if you have looked at a lot of art, there is no centralized standard by which paintings are priced. If clothing were sized the way artwork is priced, you could be a size 2 and weigh 550 pounds.

But paintings, in a way, are like cars, and often their price is based upon the name and perceived status of the artist (the more well known the artist, the higher the price). The high price does not necessarily denote the quality of the painting so much as the demand for the artist's work, namely because people deem it "collectible" and plan to sell it, at a later date, for more than they bought it for.

A Realtor relative encapsulated it thus:

"Something is worth as much as someone is willing to pay for it."

That being said, if you are out to buy art because you like it on your walls, and not because you see it as a financial investment, then you can find reasonably priced, well done prices for something that fits into your budget. These works are done by what we call "emerging" or "mid-range" artists -- people who can be quite good at what they do, but who do not yet have the publicity name value that escalates the price upward.

Many of these painters achieve their retail price by comparing their works with other painters of similar style and career level. Generally, the smaller the painting, the lower the price, but even a miniature work will command a higher price if it incorporates detail that required extra time on the part of the painter.

Keep in mind that many artists offer their work framed, and a decent frame costs money. If the artist is selling the piece through the gallery, they owe the selling party a commission, often between 30 and 60 percent, and the artist's take has to pay for that frame and any shipping costs of getting the work to the gallery.

And although all paintings require time and material on the part of the artist, not all paintings sell, or at least not the moment they leave the easel, so artists build this risk factor into the price of their paintings.

Do not expect to pay $50 or $100 for a well done original painting, because no artist can make a serious living selling his work for this price. Think about your dentist -- as much as you would like to walk out of that office owing $10, what would you think of the man or woman's professional abilities if that is what they charged after all of their education and experience?

If you like an artist's work but are unsure about the price, feel free to write him or her and open up a conversation. Some may rebuff you, but others will not, and it seriously never hurts to ask. And remember this: while on your end, you do not want to feel cheated, on the artist's end, he/she does not want to haggle and bargain simply because the client has the idea that this is a flea market and wants to get the piece for a super great deal way lower than retail price.