My paintings are all piled up in the living room, a pile of empty canvases next to them waiting for inspiration to hit. I recently bought some supplies to start a project in which I attempt to actually SELL some paintings but I'm having a hard time getting started. Family members have looked through my old stuff when they've dropped by and said things like, 'Uh, you need to SELL these paintings and make some money!' (sis-in-law) and 'Hey, these are pretty good. Why don't you sell them?' (my Dad) and then, my favorite, from my mother:
'What are you gonna do with all of these!?!?!'
I don't know, Mom. It's just my therapy right now. (She has also lent us some money a few weeks ago and gave me a canvas with specific instructions of what she wants painted to decorate her family room for her Christmas present this year.)
A former colleague of mine who is a VERY talented artist, way better than me...one of those actual God-given talents in fact... is trying to earn enough money by selling his personal belongings AND commission some pieces to move back here from NYC. We've always worked retail and everything else was always a hopeful project on the side. I know how grueling retail can be and I really want some good stuff to happen for him, for a change. He went to NYC and really tried to make something happen. I'm hoping his return to the Midwest can provide for some new opportunities.
Another former colleague and friend of mine left behind a retail job to pursue his music full-time. I'm rooting for him and trying to offer support. I have absolutely no music talent whatsoever and I truly admire those who do. My cousins in France do music and somehow get financial support to work on their projects and make a tolerable living. I get nervous about anyone leaving steady employment to go for their dreams but, you know, taking chances and all...
That's just it. I don't take chances. I tried once and wound up falling flat on my face. I ended up in a psych ward, in fact, was heavily doped up and diagnosed and shunned, and I've never gotten over it. More than a decade later, I'm still traumatized. I can't imagine showing my paintings anywhere, in public, for people to see. I can't muster up the courage to put myself out there like that. I don't have it in me, even with a never-ending prescription for Ativan. Nope, can't do it.
And so I keep working and trying to do my best in my day job every day.
On the flip side, I've recently gotten in touch with an artist and writer to ask him to sign some of his books we are currently selling at the shop. His artwork took off so big and strong that he got to quit his day job and has made a successful career for himself. He's like, famous and stuff! I took his old job years ago at the bookstore and it's really inspiring to see someone in close proximity soar like that. I'm so happy for him, truly.
As I coordinate details for an upcoming art show to showcase two local artists at the shop, I think about my role and life in the artistic universe. It is a subtle one, and I'm comfortable with that. I don't want any big things for my life, but I truly want them for other people. I understand the depths of artistic pain and depression and self-expressionism and creativity and mania and strong pursuit. I understand certain elements of the commercial aspects of artistic success and the glamour behind becoming a commodity to make other people rich with your talent. I'm not that talented person who 'has what it takes,' but I'm a supporter of those who do. In this world of harsh criticism and endless bankable marketing opportunity, I'm the good friend who will stand on the sidelines and cheer and support those whom I care about.
I have learned that this world can chew you up and spit you out real quick (or just throw you in a psych ward and analyse you to death). But I believe in survival, and rebirth and renaissance, and friends lifting one another up, and the good guys getting to the truly good stuff that is so well-deserved.
And as far as my writing endeavors go? Maybe someday I can spit out a book. I've learned, am still learning, and will continue to learn for many years. If I could somehow formulate my experiences into a helpful tale, then I will do just that. I put my heart and soul into everything I do, and if my vulnerabilities find a light and a connection then so be it.
