In our morning business meeting, Michael and I decide to try something different, at least different for us. We've never printed any of my images on paper (other than the small 8"x10" matted). The idea train takes off, along with some major derailments.
Size agreed upon: 18"x24" total including white border. Will fit in a standard frame with glass, eliminating excessive costs for clients.
Paper is chosen and ordered. Thick and canvas textured, I love it.
Backing board and glassine envelopes ordered. Will be sold and shipped flat.
A few days go by and it's last Monday. I decide to paint Frosted, in part because of his massive win in the Met Mile and because he's nominated for the upcoming Whitney on Saturday. And he's a gray and so many adore the grays (thank you Tapit for ensuring a strong generational bloodline of grays for the future). Will know for sure with the draw on Tuesday evening.
Tuesday night - he's in.
Wednesday arrives and I'd better get painting. Going well until Michael calls from the track and says FedEx tracking confirms delivery for backing boards and envelopes (and something else not related to this story, but it will be). I check the front door. No boxes. Off I go to my neighbors. You see, I have a sweet neighbor who lives at 8 Nelson Ave. and we live at 8 Nelson Ave. Extension. She and I are well acquainted because of the continuous confusion of mail delivery and shipping companies between these two very similar addresses. Guess Saratoga couldn't creatively think of another street name so they called it extension.
To no avail. I check with several neighbors. Time to get on the phone with FedEx. You all know what it's like to try to contact a helpful human being within a gigantic corporation. Time is passing.
Turns out each package requires a different case number with different agents. Will contact me in 24-48 hours after they conduct their investigation. Huh? I ask (politely at first), why not contact the driver? Can't, he's on his delivery route. I ask (getting agitated) doesn't he have a cell phone? The conversation quickly deescalates to a bad place. Bottom line: they don't give a crap.
Back to the studio in a very aggravated mood. If we don't get the backing board and envelopes, how the heck will we sell these proposed prints?
About 3:00 in the afternoon, here comes the delivery guy (in a Budget truck, no less) with the packages. Says he mistakenly delivered to 8 Nelson Ave. I say no, you didn't. He mumbles a few more lame excuses and I'm just grateful they're here and it's getting late.
Thursday: In the studio to finish painting. The acid lime green of the turf course must be an outward expression of my prior irritation on Wednesday. Now here comes the mower. I do my best to ignore the racket and concentrate. It's finished around 4:00 and I shoot it, pull it into Photoshop and create the finished file.
Friday: I'm in tent at the track while Michael is printing the new image on this new great paper. The cutter on the big plotter is not working correctly and the font I chose for the title is not in the computer running the plotter. He reminds me this computer is NOT connected to the internet when I suggest he simply download it. The image also isn't formatting like the file I provided. Several compromises and several terse phone calls later and the design is changed and the decision is made to hand cut each print. Until...the yellow ink runs out. Inks like these are not available at your local Staples and Michael pays $20 extra for Saturday delivery. Time is growing alarmingly short.
Saturday: Whitney Day. I'm at the tent by myself. As Michael awaits delivery of the ink he puts my Frosted image on some aluminum, coasters and mousepads. The ink finally arrives and now I'm sweating it out that he'll at least get a few prints to the track in time and...oh...please...may the horse win the damn race. We're about out of time.
Around 4:00 here comes my man with the goods! I'm quickly signing and numbering and putting the merchandise in place. The horses are finally loading in the gate for the Whitney and God bless that professional racehorse...he does not disappoint. We sell all the aluminum and prints in the short time left after the race.