Early experiences selling my art in Provincetown

I would like to tell you how the launch into the world of the steady and sometimes overwhelming popularity of my fine art photography really began. Also, don't forget to look at my web site: www.russophoto.com!
In 2003 I purchased an old house that desperately needed a cleanup in Provincetown, MA., a small coastal town at the tip of Cape Cod. It was owned by a man and his family since 1949. Not much had been done to it in over 50 years. Most of what he did do was comprised of dumpster finds and leftover supplies from other peoples houses and the Public Works Department stockroom.
I was visiting a friend who had invited my partner and I to stay for a night or two in his Pearl Street rental in the center of town. Earlier in the week he had spent part of his time looking for a possible second home purchase. Apparently, he had looked around quite a bit. He invited us to take a walk down the street to see a home that he was interested in. The house was #1 Baker Ave. It was a very charming old house with a white picket fence and a ton of decay. I was familiar with this place. I had actually shot it years before while studying platinum printing in Eastham, Ma. It had been built in the mid eighteenth century.
Mrs. Baker the Xth still lived in it. It had always been inhabited by the Baker family come to find out, since 1760. She was tough as nails when I approached her to take pictures of it. She said:"Do whatever you want, I don't care" sounding fed up, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. That crusty old kitchen was a sight to behold! She wanted no part in the photo, and basically put herself out of view. She was like a relic, and so was the house.
Now here I was looking at it again years later. Mrs. Baker apparently long gone. The foundation looked in need of repair and the sills and shingles looked even more rotten than I remembered. The house was most likely the first in a historic neighborhood, so permitting was the rule of the day for just about every repair! I don't think there had ever been any real renovation done to this house, so heating and electrical were minimal.
My partner Sandy and I both told him that it would be a huge and expensive undertaking, and that it was a dump! He looked at both of us and said: " If you think that's a dump. just look at the house next door".
The next thing I knew, I was in the negotiating phase of buying the house next door: #3 Baker Ave.! The house had been on the market for about a year, with no serious offers. Apparently, when people were allowed inside, it just needed way too much work, and was so loaded with junk that was impossible to dispose of without huge expense. We both thought that repair was possible, given that the main structure looked sound. My one caveat was that the previous owner dispose of the tons of accumulated junk. The next thing I knew, we were in!
The first weekend we started to try to clean it up. I remember distinctly noticing an awful sour odor which immediately attached itself to both of us -particularly our hair! The old man who had owned it had lost his wife some years before and had probably cooked the same thing every night for years. Artifacts prove that it was some kind of waffle or pancakes. He also had a Boston Terrier who used the entire downstairs as a toilet. I recall having a good friend and former corporate client from my days as an advertising photographer over for a visit.They probably thought tat it would be much nicer than it was. Her husband looked as if he was going to cry or throw up at the state that the house was in!! Needless to say, their visit was cut particularly short when I took them outside and started pulling weeds that were over 3 feet long. They did buy us housewarming gifts: A large broom, and a big box of 33 gallon industrial strength trash bags.
There were few things in the kitchen worth keeping. I remember taking a sawzall to what remained of the kitchen counter! Big mistake! It was holding up the only sink that worked. I stopped short of destroying it when I realized that we desperately needed it. For the first few weeks we had to take "whore's baths"! Weeks later, my friend who was a plumber finally got the handicapped shower working. That was a great step towards progress! It only took three or four visits to the only real plumbing supply for miles. You see, that is what I left out so far: because it is the at " the ends of the earth", you are subjected to being held hostage for everything you purchase, unless you import it from a more cental place like Boston. To be continued......