The Excrutiating World of Galleries

A friend of mine from where I used to work recommended a friend of his who'd opened a gallery in a lovely area of Philly and I finally contacted him today. I swore I'd never contact another gallery for as long as I lived, but I did it anyway; I guess some hopes never die. But they should. My friend had sent the gallery guy my info and of course the guy never contacted me. Galleries rarely do that unless they're sure they can make a ton of money from a particular artist. But in those instances the galleries couch their greed in terms of beautiful paintings or some such nonsense. Galleries don't like to admit art has very little to do with their business. They could just as well be selling socks; whatever sells is the best to them. And the gallery attitude is that they've created the artwork. The artist is secondary, just a cog in the machine, who has to convince the gallery of the artist's talent. Yuck.
I'm still on the fence regarding what I want to do with the rest of my life. Open a 'gallery' to celebrate my work and share it with whomever is interested? Just move to a one-story house and deep-six the gallery idea? Move to a warmer climate and share that house with my brother and the rest of my family and go visit them in the summer? And what about commercial taxes and real estate? Could I actually deal with the work of a gallery and would I enjoy doing it? As it is now, I have no time; how would I suddenly shoehorn babysitting a gallery into my already busy days? But then, isn't all this just for my ego anyway, because who else cares? Why does it matter? I love painting and I create art because I enjoy doing it. I miss drawing and painting when all I'm doing is zipping around with Harry or socializing. I worry about having boxes and boxes of artwork and leaving it all to my overwhelmed kids when I die. Most artists do that anyway; you can never sell most of what you create. At least not during your lifetime. Cousin Jerry says, "Why worry about exhibiting?" and he's totally right. Maybe by the time I'm ready to move, I'll have the exhibition question worked out.
Meanwhile, I'm becoming less social; I'm declining what used to be one of my favorite socials--a Tea Party. When I realized that the group was going to be upwards of fifty people, I just wasn't interested anymore. There's no one going who I especially miss; I see my friends anyway. So Harry and I will probably just go to the movies. Maybe I should pin artwork to my coat when I go to the movies. That way I'd be exhibiting and relaxing.