So now I can formally say I am an artist when people ask what I do for a living, I am still stunned that I can command a fee for my endeavour. Its a meagre living at the moment and i am struggling with many of the issues that keep tension between the way I would like to develop as an artist and the way I may have to develop as a contributor to the household, a dilemma that faces all who pursue creative vocations.
“Oh how wonderful, I wish I could paint as a job.”
This is a standard type of response when I declare my new direction. I don’t like to point out the hours of agonising over whether my work will be liked, the moments of self doubt, the despair and struggle over whether to abandon a piece of or not, the meals missed because I am in “the zone” or the tension headache when I am forced to admit that two o clock in the morning is a ridiculous time to be working. Moments are hijacked when I am fascinated by the light on a building, reflections in a window or the way some one or something is moving. “Hello?” I am reminded that someone is trying to have a conversation with me but I am fascinated by the sky changing colour through the window behind them. The relationship I now have between my eyes and my brain often distracts me from engaging in other peoples moments with me, “I am so sorry, could you run that by me again?” is a phrase on repeat.
Please don’t get me wrong I love doing what I do, I have even got to the stage that I miss the hint of acrylic paint I can taste in my neglected mug of cold tea, (don’t deny it, we all do it don’t we?). I would like to let people know that my work is as demanding as any other job, I have expectations from my boss, and as I am my own boss those expectations are high. I have targets and deadlines that can be tough when my resources are unpredictable, seriously, when your brush and brain are not in harmony the world can be a very frustrating place and a studio can be thick with the sound of silent searching for the spark needed to relight the dying embers of a once energetic project. On the other side of the scale I can be so full of potential ideas that my workplace looks like a madhouse, sketches and materials randomly strewn as I fly from idea to idea trying to get some cohesion and fearful of losing the best idea yet. Then there is the doldrum phase, that moment when I seem abandoned by the artist in me, the paint dries and I don’t even have the inclination to engage with the need to tend to brushes that must be rescued.
Being an artist is a choice, like all work it has elements of challenge, it demands of you and rewards you too. My response to those who comment on my chosen path now is simple…
“It has it’s moments.”