The Memphis Mike Challenge!

In my never-ending quest to prove the worth/value of art (painting, sculpture, music, writing, photography, etc.), I've decided to pose a challenge. It's open to anyone. However, there are a few rules.

You cannot spend one cent to create your art.
(Please describe HOW you created your art)
You cannot use tools/equipment you already possess.
You cannot borrow tools/equipment to create your art.
You cannot use 'found items'.
You can use items found in nature.
You will retain all rights to your creation.

Sound tricky? Think you're up to the challenge?

Here's how I'd like this to work: Create your masterpiece. Get someone to take a video of it and upload it (that's the only expense allowed), and share the link in the comments section. I will check back from time to time and repost this on social media (my Facebook page).

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE THIS!!!!!!!

I'm sure you're probably wondering what purpose any of this will serve. Easy! Too many artists are expected to just give their art away. If an artist chooses to do so, dandy. Just don't expect one to do it. It usually takes some monetary investment to create art...art that can be enjoyed by anyone.

Paints, brushes, and canvasses cost money. Paper, pens, and pencils cost money. Cameras cost money. Musical instruments cost money. Everyone knows this. However, many people out there expect us to give away our art. How many times have we heard the following?

"You'll get a lot of exposure..."

"Can you give me a painting/sculpture/photo/CD/poem,etc.?"

"Well, we can't pay you but....."

Allow me to leave you with these words of wisdom, passed on to me years ago by an unknown, old jazz musician: "If you don't place a value on your work, no one else will either."

I look forward to seeing what you all come up with!

Comments

An Old Photo

The photo was old and scratched up. It looked like it had been handled and mishandled for years, and it probably had. Passed from hand to hand, tucked into scrapbooks, displayed in frames, stuffed into drawers, and rescued again. It had been looked at thousands of times. It was still his favorite. It wasn't historically important. Just a photograph of friends sitting in someone's back garden, sharing a few laughs and a few cold beers. The image was every bit as grainy as the memories attached to it. The colors had faded with age, drifting toward reds and yellows. Time had left its fingerprints everywhere. He was the only one left in the photograph. When his time came, would anyone remember those old glory days? Those years when importance itself seemed unimportant. When photographs weren't taken to prove anything, advertise anything, or preserve a carefully crafted image. They were taken simply because someone thought a moment was worth keeping. There was no guarantee the p...

The American

In his native America, he'd always had a shady reputation. As a young man, he worked as muscle for hire, worked as a bouncer in gambling houses and brothels, and always had a side hustle moving drugs or weapons. He could always be counted on to find a buyer for stolen goods, too. He was smart enough to see the cracks forming in the government long before most. Within days of the First Attack, he'd made plans to leave the country. Some of his cohorts with Sicilian lineage helped him get to Europe. From there he was on his own. He managed to bring along a tidy sum in cash and jewels. This gave him the advantage of time to form new contacts. He was told time and time again that the capital of Bulgaria - Sofia - would be a good place to set himself up. There were gangs there who could make use of his skills, and provided he kept out of trouble and his name out of the local gossip, he would do fine. And he did. He pretty much became, as he liked to call himself, a consultant. He ...

New Book! (and what comes next)

My 1st print book now exists. What a strange way to put it. I've always enjoyed writing, even when I was a kid and it wasn't cool . Honestly, I never thought I'd do anything with it. It was just another outlet for all of the ideas banging around in my head. For decades, a lot of these thoughts became songs. Now I've returned to the simplicity of words. I write because I enjoy telling stories - pretty much the same with songwriting. The only difference is that now I don't have to go on a stage or into a recording studio. There I days I miss both, but who knows...maybe one day I'll do it all again. Writers write for different reasons. Some for acclaim or notoriety. Some for profit. Same as with music, painting, sculpting, acting - I think those goals are a matter of seeking validation. But for what? Doing what you enjoy is validation enough. For years I've written this blog. In some ways, it's the perfect medium for me. I do it, it's done, published, ...

The Real Memphis Mike (don't settle for imitations)

Search This Blog