Oil Painting

No clowns, no bells, no whistles.  Nothing fancy here, this is just for you and me.  January 2020 was the beginning of a life we could have never imagined.  And, now with broken hearts from actually living our worst fears, we make ready for life in a different world. 

My first sense of the oncoming tidal wave of sadness and grief came through a phone conversation with an artist who I had only known casually.  In the midst of a light conversation about galleries and traveling during a pandemic, he spontaneously mentioned losing his dad to Covid-19.  Nearly as a casual afterthought, he added he had been unable to even visit his dad in the hospital before his death.  Then, silence dropped as if from a gallows, dreadful and heavy.  

Tears, an apology for breaking down, then more gasping tears.  We then shared a long conversation. 

I am pretty sure he only knew me as a fellow artist, not a psychologist.   This first one hit me hard.   The sadness, the vulnerability, the regret, the pain… someone who needed to be held and the only lifeline between us was a satellite signal.  It hit me so hard, I found myself calling several friends that day to process it. 

A few weeks later came the next, a recent widow.  She called to let me know she would not be entering an annual show for our group because she just had lost her husband and could not muster the wherewithal to finish the piece. This time, I was the one who started with the choking up.  And again, a long conversation.  

There have been many others and there will be others, yet. Of course, I would expect such intimate moments with my friends and family but it was a bit unnerving to experience these events with casual acquaintances.  

Looking back, I should not have been surprised. Having been a practicing psychologist for my first career, I know that when people are overwhelmed,  grief chooses its own way out without regard to person, place or time.  Breaking down, feeling lost, grieving for those known and unknown, reaching out in the most unlikely circumstances — this is our new normal for a while longer.  

When I was a young mental health professional, I went to a seminar to learn about family dynamics.  The speaker asked for volunteers and my hand shot up before I thought it all the way through.  Four others and I were instructed to form a circle.  The speaker’s assistant tied my hands and feet to the hands and feet of the persons on my right and left with about 24 inches of slack rope between us.   Our circle included the speaker, who I was soon to learn,  was a strong and strapping women.  When finished, we all stood tied to one another quietly; waiting in anticipation for what was coming next. 

In what I can only describe as a “formidable fashion”, our speaker went down nearly flat to the floor dragging all of us tumbling down with her.  As each of us scrambled to gain a bit of equilibrium,  we wobbled the person next to us and finally just ended in a collective heap. I will never forget the lesson learned.

People in our lives are connected with differing lengths of relational rope.  Our most intimate relationships are tied with the shortest binds. What affects one person, ripples to affect other relationships in that person’s life.  What one does in response to the ripples, sets off its own series of relational events, for the better or for the worse.  Oddly, when something happens for the worse, I believe it ripples both ways.  I also believe that when something happens for the better, it also ripples both ways.  I have health and wellness research to support my claims, but that is not what this is about.  Today’s thoughts are only for you and me. 

So , now in this season of loss but with hope on the horizon,  my simple message is to share, disclose, and let someone in; share you heart, your losses, your fears, your regrets and sadness.  Reach out and express your losses. 

Give others the opportunity to understand, support, hope for and love you.  Open a door for them to reach back through with their own grief.  No one has lived this year unscathed.  Rather than hiding and holding heartbreak, process it and transform it into the love you felt for those injured or gone.  Like so many things in life, grieving is a process, not an event, and grief will have its way for the better or for the worse. 

When I hung up after that first conversation, I felt honored as well as sad.   Once acquaintances, when we said goodbye that day, we had become closer friends.   I felt honored to let him know I “heard” his pain.  I felt honored to acknowledge his sadness and regrets without needing to “fix” it for him.  I felt honored to let silence sit without having to fill it with words.  I felt honored to be part of the process of grieving with a response for the better – one that validated hard times and one that held hope to one day remember a well-loved father with thankfulness rather than regret.  Even the saddest of times can eventually give way to living again, if one chooses that path when it is time.  

As I have aged and lived through many things both personally and with my beloved family and friends, I have learned that to all matters there is a season;  “A  time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance”.  Funny that I first remember learning about this initially startling, but now comforting, concept from Pete Seeger’s  1962 The Bitter and the Sweet album (adapted by the Byrds’, Turn, Turn, Turn a few years later).  Seeger gave me permission to be sad, to be quiet, to take time to regain strength and to understand life was complicated and at times, very hard.  It is an understanding that I carry in my heart today. I have no idea when I realized he lifted it from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.  

All said, emotional intelligence in life may just come down to understanding that in life, there is a season for all things;  a season to acknowledge and grieve our losses and a season to celebrate and rejoice in life.  Take heart my friends and reach out to one another.  

My color choices are based on observation, feeling, and the desire to express my experience.  My brain does not respond to rules and scientific theory. I choose to see what I see and that choice comes from my attitude about what I am painting. Color affects how we see the world, and it leaves us with a definite response. Think of the people who are given a pair of glasses allowing them to see color for the first time. They are brought to tears from the power of color. It is that power we harness in our own color choices.

An artist must experience the subject they choose to paint. In my workshops, I ask that artists bring only reference material that they have gathered firsthand through their sketches or photos, so they can draw on their experience of the scene while painting. Memory of the subject is as important, if not more important, than trying to copy a photo.

When I paint a demo for artists, I tell them, “I see blue here,” or “a warm orange there”. Some students mistakenly think they have failed if they don’t see the same colors as I do. However, that could not be further from the truth.  For example, Andrew Wyeth and Vincent Van Gogh saw color in very different ways that were both equally effective. Each artists’ color choices conveyed their attitude about their subjects. While the work showed technical skill, it also expressed vision unique to the individual. Take a look at Van Gogh’s passionate, warm-toned paintings. His shift in color began around 1888 and may have been a result of a medical condition. Imagine if he had not tried to capture what he was truthfully seeing at the time, and instead relied on color theory to compensate for his change in vision from his earlier, darker Dutch period. His work post-1888 is electrifying and instantly recognizable as Van Gogh precisely because of his personal color choices.

There are basic ideas of color that can be helpful, for example cooling a color as it recedes to convey depth, and using warm or cool mixtures to convey light and shadow or to suggest the turning of an object. Objects in shadow are generally cooler than those in light. That is not to say that a shadow may not have warmth in it. Sometimes a shadow will appear to lean to red-purple, which technically is a warm color, but the red-purple can be cooler relative to the portion of the subject in light. For me, trying to remember rules keeps me from just looking and choosing to see what I want to see.

I am often asked, “How can I see color and get the exact mixture I want?” The answer is that to see and to mix are two different things. A very helpful way to learn to mix color is to do color charts using the colors on your palette. I use a limited palette of Titanium White, Cadmium Yellow Pale, Alizarin Crimson Permanent, Ultramarine Blue and Viridian. With these colors, I can make any color I need. The limited palette is a great way to learn to mix color quickly. The limited palette is called the “mother palette,” because most color mixed using it carry a bit of the others in it. It is harder to produce a muddled painting and easier to maintain harmony. 

A great example of making color charts is in Richard Schmid’s book Alla Prima.  Creating the charts shows you how to mix a variety of colors with confidence. The completed color charts can be carried outside when working in plein air, or held up against a subject when working in the studio. You can ask yourself, “Does the color I see lean towards the warmer, or cooler version of it?” You will begin to define what it is you are actually seeing.  Because the charts also show the different values in colors, they will train your eye to see both hue (color) and value. For instance, if you see a tree with green leaves in warm light, holding up the chart of green mixes, will help you identify the subject as a warm green that is in the darker value range.

While you may see color differently than I do, or your friends do, trust what you see and put it down. Color is your personal choice. It would be boring and inauthentic if we all followed rules about which colors to paint trees, water, figures, or shadows. To learn to discern color, especially in nature, look and blink your eyes so you do not stare at the subject too long. If you stare at an area of color, it will lead your brain to give you a generalized local color.  The time to squint and stare is when you are evaluating value (light to dark.)  Squinting removes details from our subject and we are left with the darkest dark and lightest light shapes. For color, a quick impression (looking away and back again) is needed. Also, try not to see the spot of color in isolation only — look at it in relation to what’s around it. For instance, you might think you see “white” on the roof of a snow scene, but in a quick look, you might actually see a light blue, which reads white relative to its neighbors.

Try taking walks in nature and ask yourself to mentally record what you are seeing. Ask yourself if the object you are looking at is cooler, warmer, grayer, lighter or darker in relation to something else. You will build more ability to identify what you see. Also, be aware of where the light hits an object. Seeing color and value is like stretching a muscle: hard at first, but easier with use.  

When I see blinding skies and incredible waves that take my breath away, I worry that there is no way my camera will capture what I am seeing and feeling. It rarely does. However, my personal sense-memory is soaking up everything. My attitude affects what I see of the color’s energy and power. When I paint, I am communicating an experience that has moved me. I push the color on my canvas until it elicits that same feeling. 

I recently received a photograph from a fellow artist. It was of her mother and father. She wanted to commission a painting of it to give to her mother, who is an artist as well. The photo showed her mother and father at an art workshop. Her Dad was not an artist, but was her Mom’s biggest fan. He would carry her gear, set up her easel and supplies, and then sit back and admiringly watch her paint works of art. As soon as I saw the picture, I saw the painting. I took the commission and began the process of not merely copying the image, but creating a visual story of connection.

So, what were my thoughts on developing the painting? How was the information processed in my mind? It went something like this:

1. First, I noticed a natural Fibonacci spiral in the design. I realized that the line leading my eye through the painting was dependent upon the connection between the gentleman’s feet and the shadows of the chair in front of him. If this were broken, your eye would go to the strong contrast between his clothing and the background. I wanted there to be a connection between the two people, for the design as well as for the story.
2. Second, I thought about the size and placement of the subject on the canvas. I chose a 12 x 16 inch canvas because it has a longer length to width ratio than the 11 x 14 one that we had originally discussed. I communicated this with the client, and she agreed.

3. Because there were two figures, I knew that the proportion would need to be as accurate as possible. If I drew one figure perfectly and then realized I did not have enough room for the other, I would have to start over.
   
4. The placement of the figures on the canvas mattered as well. I chose to have more room to the right of female figure because the pair were facing in that direction, and I wanted the viewer to have a sense of the space outside of the canvas. This placement also helped the eye not linger on the gentleman whose sharp edges and high contrast could have stolen the show. 
   
5. The balance of the painting was also important. The canvas had more “weight” or “pull” on the right side because of the size of the artist’s gear, the detail around that figure, the action the figure is engaged in, and her darker values.
   
6. Once I had the placement of the figures noted on the canvas, I began to mix my paint. I chose the colors for my “Color Circle” — the way I premix my colors to get a wide variety of harmonious hues with a limited palette.

My limited color palette for this painting was as follows: 

1 Red: Indian Red

1 Blue: Ultramarine Blue

1 Yellow: Cadmium Yellow Light

Dark: Mixture of Ultramarine Blue and Transparent Oxide Brown

Titanium White

And to the side – Cadmium red to mix in as needed

Next, I began painting at the center of interest (the place that I wanted the attention to go the most). This area also had the darkest darks on the canvas. As I painted her head, it was important to get a background color next to her hair and skin to show the relationship of value and temperature, instead of making an isolated color choice. These relationships of color and the interactions between colorsis the way that atmosphere is created in a painting — the interconnection of all of the elements and objects working together. That is why it is important to put a sky in a landscape early, and why the colors of some objects are found in others that are nearby. There should be a definite intertwining of color and movement throughout a scene. This is what is missing many times when artists feel like their paintings are too “stiff”.

I do not paint every painting using this same method. Instead, I let the design dictate the decisions I make. I think about how to not lose the most important design elements of the scene, and try not to let anything distract from it. I also try to have my drawing accurate enough that I can be bold with my brushwork and not rework it.

In this painting, I worked around the lady’s head, then followed the background to where the gentleman was, and then blocked him in. Finally, I circled back to her and the items around her. Even in the placement of the background flowers, I was thinking about my design. I did not mind the sharp edge created by his legs because it added to the movement of the viewer’s eye through the painting, leading to the female figure. I finished the painting with detail on his face- not getting too much detail, but just enough to see the shape of his head and character as much as possible in a small painting. When it said what I wanted it to say, I called it finished.

This painting was about a gentleman, who, although taking up the most space in the painting, was the background figure. His wife was the focus — not just of this painting, but also his life. And he was glad to sit back and watch as she shined in the spotlight. He was connected to her, not just in design, but in heart and in focus. As I compiled my painting, I was doing more than artistic design. I was telling a story of connection.

Now that I refuse to board an airplane and fly across country, I miss my family and friends.  My plein air workshop at the Landgrove Inn in beautiful Vermont has been canceled, and my trips to NYC, specifically the MET, have been on hold.  I live near San Francisco with my husband and son. This has been a time of painting locally. 

My studio was relocated from Oakland to my backyard.  I have used this time for reflection and growth, integrating skills that I have spent a lifetime accumulating.  I have taken some online courses and attended virtual conventions: DrawingAmerica and Realism Live to name two.  All the while, I have tried to find a remote teaching job at the local private schools. I know one thing about this pandemic: you cannot run around and hang out with friends.  Workshops and onsite teaching opportunities have all been cancelled. This is a time of resilience, a time to consider all the diversity training available, and a time to be thankful for what is in the moment. 

During the Realism Live Convention, Patricia Watwood, Jennifer Balkan, and Alia El-Bermani discussed gender bias and the imposter syndrome which set off a bell for me.  I could write a whole article on that syndrome, but instead, with this Covid “pause,” I discovered new coping strategies which otherwise would have just blown right by me. I have always been part of an art community. However, during  the pandemic, it is no longer available. So, spiritual self-reinforcement has become necessary. 

Out in my backyard, to get beyond the blank canvas, I start with a series of questions: 

Why is that beautiful?

What are the shapes?

How can I frame that?

How many compositions/thumbnails can I make with that idea?

Which idea is best?

How varied are my value shapes and are they interesting?

What are the main colors and values, and does that affect my focal point?

(One thing I truly love and notice is how colors react next to each other…)

How should I approach my color studies?

Cast drawing and painting has humbled me to the core, and I can say I was not the best at it. I understand how difficult it is to set up a hierarchy of values and edges.  This ultimately is the greatest challenge in any painting, and the concept should be considered early. 

I find it interesting that some people have confidence right from the start and eventually catch up with their skill sets, while others are always thinking they are not good enough. My own self-doubt arises when I don’t sell my work and there is a very slow market.

The truth of my training outweighs any imposter syndrome-feeling: Pratt Institute, the Academy of Art in San Francisco and Training at Golden Gate Atelier in Oakland with Andrew Ameral from Florence Academy. But this weird world presents its own tests.

To be an artist requires grit and perseverance. Practicing art is an act of faith.  The Covid situation has made it necessary to isolate from many social activities. My creative mission became to find beauty and truth in the ordinary; to “be where I am,” even if that meant a lot of solitude. I am motivated, however, when artists such as William Merritt Chase and Adolf Menzel show me how they made masterpieces by staying local and simple.

William Merritt Chase (1849-1916) found a world to paint in his own backyard. Relentless with his education and drive, he was stylistically flexible with his portraits, landscapes, and still lifes. I appreciated Chase even before the pandemic. His works are carefully composed views of his reality. His paintings of Central Park resonate with me on a very deep level.  I have walked through the park, over the land where Chase painted. One idea, still pretty new to the US, is that we are just passing through—that the past, present and future all contain gifted and talented people to capture the same hills, lawns, trees and vistas. 

Adolf von Menzel (1815-1905), a German painter and printmaker, resonates with me especially during this time of isolation.  To some degree, Menzel was detached from others.  He became famous toward the end of his life for historical and patriotic paintings. But for me, his ability to see the beauty in common objects is a great lesson. His drawing of a comb with hair illustrates my point: find something common, a simple object to draw, and make it interesting.  

The Japanese culture embraces an idea called Wabi Sabi. The word Wabi describes loneliness, not the negative feeling of isolation from others, but rather a pleasant feeling of being alone in nature, away from society. Sabi means to be old and weathered, but in an elegant, rustic fashion. In our culture, we do not often confront loneliness. Wabi-sabi is also about appreciating simplicity, and seeing the value in small things. This past year has forced me to do so, and being “stuck” in my backyard studio turns out to be a positive: it allows me to observe detail in a new way. I would have missed the delight and creativity in the ordinary. Take a moment to look at what is around you wherever you are. I hope that it stirs and inspires you, just as it did Chase, Menzel—and me.

I’ve often heard artists lament how much they hate painting commissioned portraits. I never understood why. After all, a commission is a guaranteed sale which means the artist doesn’t have to work hard to find a buyer, or split their profit with a gallery or broker. The artist doesn’t have to generate the idea for the work completely on their own or even store the painting until it sells.

So I started asking artists what it is about commissions that they hate so much. They described to me a process of tortured meetings where collectors make endless changes to the originally described project, budget or deadlines; pressured painting sessions under the shadow of collectors as they scrutinize each brush stroke; endless changes to finished works; and even knocking down doors to get paid. 

Well, goodness, I would hate commissions too if that was what they looked like for me. Let me walk you through the commission process I offer to collectors and invite you to take on any or all parts of my approach. Hopefully you will have more success with commissions and they will be more fun for both you and your clients. 

It starts with being honest:

If the artwork you create and sell is the source of your primary income, you may feel compelled to say yes to every commission you are offered. Because you need the work, you may be afraid to ask for specific working conditions to suit your personality or financial needs. As a full-time professional artist I completely understand this dilemma and want to encourage you to consider creating a standard for your working process that will help you protect your creative integrity. 

First, I encourage you to take only the commissions that you are truly inspired to paint. “But won’t that make me less money Tina?” The answer is yes and no. Yes, you may turn away a portion of the commissions you usually take. However, your new standard will help you take on commissions that are such a good fit for you and create working conditions that are much less stressful and take less of your time and energy. With working conditions that you are truly comfortable with, you will make better paintings and this will help you build your brand and portfolio, which in turn can increase the overall value of your work. 

From my experience, when artists create work that they are not truly excited and inspired to make — either because they are doing it strictly to get paid or because they are painting what they think they are supposed to paint — that work is usually not the best quality and is certainly not fulfilling.  And, even if an artist is truly inspired about the subject, but the working conditions are packed with unknown variables such as changing deadlines or evolving expectations, the stress far outweighs the pay. 

So how does one paint commissions without the process becoming soul crushing work? The trick is to be honest with yourself and your potential collectors. For me, I absolutely love painting commissions because I know with 100% certainty that the painting I create will be loved for at least as long as the collector is living and probably another generation or two. And that truly is the driving factor for me. I love the works that I create. They are a part of me and when I send them off into the world I am so hopeful that they will continue to make their mark and speak for me many years into the future. But I am able to focus on that fulfilling aspect of commissioned painting because I’m not torturing myself with a process that gives all my creative control away. I know myself. I protect myself from the things that I know will crush my confidence and if a client cannot agree to the terms I need, then I am not the right artist for their project.

Set the terms and present them clearly:

The easiest way for me to explain how I express my needs to a client is for you to sit in on the conversation. So here we go…

Client: Hi Tina, I heard about you from “so and so.” They love the painting you did of their granddaughter. I would like to have a portrait made of my grandchild. 

Me: Hi! I’m so happy to get to visit with you and I’ll have to send a thank you to “so and so”. I really enjoyed painting their precious grandbaby. Tell me more about your grandchild and what you envision for your painting. 

Client: Well I love what you did for “so and so.”

Me: Great! She is precious, it was so easy to be inspired to paint her. How old is your grandchild? Where do they live? Are they old enough to have any say…are they excited to have their portrait painted? (NOTE: Age isn’t really the concern. If they are an adult it wouldn’t matter either…if they don’t want a portrait made it makes the process much more difficult and I usually decline to take the project until the subject is fully on board.)

Client: Yes, they are 10 years old and live out west. They are a little nervous to be painted since they’ve never sat for a portrait before. 

Me: That’s okay! I’ll take the time to introduce myself and let your grandchild in on my creative process before we ever meet in person, I can let them join in on some live online painting broadcasts! This usually gets the subject excited and makes our time together a special experience. 

Me: What is your budget and what timeline are we looking at? (NOTE: I am always careful to make sure that I have something to offer for a wide range of budgets, if I’m excited about their project AND if they accept the terms I must have in order to take the project. And, I usually take one to three commissions a year and I typically need to get the commission at least three months ahead of the deadline.)

Client: We were hoping to have the painting in time for the holidays. The budget is moderate and we’re hoping that’s enough to get the same kind of painting you did for “so and so.” 

Me: If we get started by “blank date” I’ll have time to meet your holiday deadline. I agree, the painting I did for “so and so” is one of my very best works. A work similar would be in the above average price range. With a moderate budget, I can offer a monochrome or one color head and neck oil sketch. If you’d like to have a full color, full figure fine art oil painting, I do offer no interest monthly payments. You’d get to bring the painting home as soon as it is paid in full. (NOTE: I factor travel, framing and shipping into my prices, which can bump a painting into a different price range. In this case, painting or photographing the subject requires me to travel to them, so the price is above average, even though it is only a monochrome. Be sure to know what you are including in your pricing so you don’t end up working for a wage that cannot sustain your needs.)

Client: Is it less expensive if we do the framing? 

Me: Thanks for asking, but no. The majority of the price is determined by how complex the commissioned process is and any travel I do. If you can wait until “such and such date” I’ll be nearby teaching an oil painting workshop. Your grandchild can stop in to say hi and we can eliminate the travel costs in this estimate. Otherwise, the less expensive options are one color or a head and shoulders sketch; the price increases if the work is full color, full figure and/or multiple subjects. I’ve texted you an example of low, moderate and above average budget works so that you can compare. 

Client: Oh! I actually love the one-color options, but I still want a full color formal painting and I cannot wait until “such and such date” — so instead of the full figure like “so and so’s”, how about just the head and shoulders? 

Me: Wonderful! That is right in your budget! Let me quickly go over my process with you just to be sure that I am the right artist for your project. I have a specific process that helps me be confident and ensures that I am capable of creating a work of art that you and your grandchild will treasure for years to come. (NOTE: Here is where you insert YOUR preferences, but below are mine.)

I’m glad we have had this conversation, I fully understand the vision you are hoping for and I can get creatively excited about it. This is an important step because this enthusiasm is what I will use to help me solve the problems during the painting process. (NOTE: In this case it is easy to know what they want because they have referred to another artwork I have done and have seen other paintings of mine. That’s not always the case. I like to make sure clients have a visual to point to when telling me what they want, so I provide them with images of my previous works or works by the old masters to help them describe their vision to me and also I am able to hold them to it.)

Next, I’ll give you an exact price and estimated delivery date. Every aspect of the process will be included in that one price, including any travel I need to do, photography or painting from life sessions, creating the work, framing the work and safe and insured delivery of the work — that’s all included. 

I require 50% of the total at the time we sign my contract. That amount is non-refundable. It holds the spot on my calendar and pays for my travel and materials expenses. 

I will produce for you an image, we’ll call it a map, since it will be what I use to get to the painting you will love. The map may be a sketch using art materials or a digital image and you will be able to change any aspect of it or have me try again completely, even if it means I have to travel again to paint from life or gather more photo references. Those fees are already included. (NOTE: If traveling is part of the process, I stay in town until I have approval of the map.)

Once an image has been approved, I will create your actual oil painting and present it to you to either accept or reject. To protect my process and give me the confidence to make the best work I am capable of, I do not make changes to my oil paintings and I do not offer opportunities to comment on the work in progress. 

If the finished painting is accepted, the other 50% (which is also non-refundable) is due at that time, unless we’ve set up a payment plan. The painting will be shipped to you upon receiving the full payment. If you can agree to these terms, I’d love to be the artist for your special project.

Client: That works for us. But out of curiosity, what happens to the painting if we reject it?

Me: I’m so glad you asked! First of all, my goal is to make the best work I’m capable of so that you will not only accept it, you’ll love it forever! But, if for any reason I don’t hit the mark, you simply don’t pay the other 50% and I keep the painting. I can paint over it, sell it to someone else, enter it into competitions for shows, etc. But I’ve only ever had one rejection, and it sold to the first collector I showed it to before it was even dry. I hope that helps you feel confident in working with me. 

Client: It does. Thank you!

But Tina, what if the client’s idea is weird or too difficult for me? 

Part of protecting your creative integrity means being honest about your own taste and abilities. It isn’t fair to your collector or yourself if you misrepresent your abilities. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t push yourself or take risks, but I recommend you do that with the work you paint for yourself, not your commissions. Once I was approached to paint a scene that was far too difficult for me and the client wanted it painted in a style that I don’t typically paint in. It would have paid well. But I know myself and so I know I would have been too stressed trying to accomplish the complicated scene. In addition, the styling was so different from my usual work, I am sure that painting would have looked like an outsider when compared to the body of my work. On top of all those challenges, that painting wasn’t going to help promote my brand or be a valuable addition to my portfolio. I simply told the collector that I was not the artist for their project, but I did have the business cards of a couple artists I thought would do the job right. 

In conclusion:

It may take a while for you to fully understand your own boundaries and learn how to communicate them with confidence, but it will be more than worth it. Be honest with yourself about the terms you are comfortable with and have the courage to say them out loud in your conversations and state them clearly in your contracts. This will give you the chance to enjoy commissions, earn the respect of your collectors and protect your creative integrity.