While in New York City over the weekend, I had an interesting (ok, and slightly traumatic and scary yet encouraging and clarifying) experience.

I had meetings at two galleries in Chelsea to show my work. I was plunged into this opportunity quite unexpectedly, which was good because I had no time to get nervous or put any weight on it, and bad because I was unprepared. But that's how it was, and I learned a lot.

The first gallery visit was deflating and depressing. The second made the whole experience humorous.

The first gallery owner began our conversation with a bit of a diatribe on how bad the art market is for galleries and young artists, that all the work was being sold through auction houses and only big ticket artists were selling. After this encouraging beginning, I was then asked to show my work, which he promptly dismissed. "You are obviously an accomplished painter," he said, "but western landscapes don't sell in New York. I can't even consider your work." Done.

Next gallery. A few doors down. I was surrounded by Western landscapes of barns by a not-too-famous Californian artist. I was told by this gallery owner that thirteen of his fifteen $30,000 paintings had sold at his recent show. He also reviewed my work, and said only "thank you," but did leave me with my most applicable take-home advice.

What sticks with me most was the answer to a question I asked the second gallerist. I asked him what was it that made this particular western landscape painter's work appealing to New Yorkers. The gist of his answer was that I just had to keep making the work I loved to make. Period. Which deep down we all know. But it's hard not to want to also make work that sells in big markets once in a while too.

But truly, I am going to continue to just keep making the work I love to make. New York, take it or leave it.