Who would've known?

I've considered my threadline drawings a branch off my main body of work for about three years. They're typically black ink on thick paper (either printmaking paper or Bristol vellum, meant for dry media but I love how it responds to wet media as well). I've made threadlines in all sizes, from the largest sheet of printmaking paper I could find to a miniature 5 x 6". The work is visually very different from what I'd call my "main" body of work (though these days it gets much less attention than the word "main" attributes to it). However, while nearly visually opposite, apparently technique and juxtaposition of soft and hard glare across all divisions of my work. In both practices, puddles of water with minds of their own are encouraged, but there's also an element of tedious control where my paintbrush is concerned; in the threadlines a tiny strip of the white of the paper is left bare (forming the negative space recognized as the "threadline") and in my main-non-main paintings, areas of solid contour juxtapose stains left from pools of acrylic-tinted water. These areas are often inspired by nearly invisible watermarks leftover from melted ice. (Example) Now we're getting way off topic. What I wanted to write about was...

Last Sunday night my boyfriend and I found ourselves in my tiny apartment with no plan ahead. While this is normally considered an ideal Sunday night, I'm known to be somewhat stir-crazy and in an effort to pass the time without spending money or watching TV, I must say I was struck with a bolt of brilliance. It's my fault that my boyfriend hadn't seen a great amount of my artwork-- in a tiny "studio" apartment with no studio to work in, most of my work is stored flat under my bed or condemned to corners behind larger furniture, unexposed. I thought we could make a piece of artwork together.

As I sifted through some small work I had previously inventoried, priced and labeled for sale, my boyfriend took an interest in the miniature threadlines. "Perfect," I thought. We can easily paint one of these. I whipped out the vellum, watercolor, newsprint, old Stonybrook pint containers and wala, we were ready. When we finished, being the social media addicts we are, it only took 2 Instagram pics and about 2 minutes till we got a reaction... a very positive one.

Were our friends "liking" our photos and activities because they thought it was cute that we created something together? Were people "liking" the art or the narrative? Are threadlines stronger in color than in black and white?

I felt sort of sad. I personally feel (know!) my threadlines are stronger larger and with black ink. They are sophisticated that way, they demand attention and admiration. Threadlines in color are "cuter"-- they are more whimsical. Both my boyfriend and I were immediately commissioned for these paintings (informally of course, since the fact that artwork is a practice to be taken seriously and paid for makes most people gasp these days...) So far, we're going to keep the two we made for ourselves and I may dabble in miniatures for an upcoming art sale. Thoughts?