My girlfriend just left to use the restroom; I’m not certain she is going to return. I’m sitting in a couch in a stylish lobby at the Terranea Resort in Palos Verdes, California, and I have two large 24×36″metal prints on a coffee table in front of me. The hope is that passing guests will see the prints, fall in love, and make an offer of some sort to take the artwork home with them. That is the hope. Unfortunately, it’s not looking promising.
My first problem: guests think the metal prints are part of the table itself. I obviously didn’t consider this issue when I first placed the photos down, and I’m now stuck wondering how I can prop the art up on the surrounding leather chairs in the lobby and not get kicked out by management. I’m already seeing suspicious glances from men dressed in sharp suits, wondering what the in the world I’m doing at the resort with such ridiculously oversized shots of the Santa Monica Pier and the Maine coastline. Nothing has been said to me yet, but I know words have been exchanged among the staff. My girlfriend believes so, too.
Say, where is that girlfriend?
I stop a marketing program on my laptop (more sales advice for rookies such as myself), place the computer beside me, and move one of the metal prints so that it’s leaning against the coffee table rather than laying on top of it. It’s my sad attempt to prove the table and the photo are separate items. I’m not selling a fine art photography coffee table. But should I? Hmm…it get’s me thinking.
The sun is setting on the Pacific, casting a warm orange glow behind a layer of scattered clouds. As a photographer, I’m itching to get outside and capture a few shots before I miss the opportunity–especially ten minutes after sunset, when the day’s last light sometimes produces amazing, ignited horizons.
I put the computer back in my lap, look up, and smile. I see something better than the view outside. A beautiful woman strides gracefully toward me carrying two large cups of cappuccinos. I had forgotten that there was a café near the restroom.
I’m a lucky guy, even without print sales.