Imagine working all week, and on the weekend when other people are going to festivals, dates, or just staying home watching football on the tube, you instead have to get up early, drive a distance, if you haven't already, and sometimes before dawn, start to put up your canopy, carry or somehow haul in your display, set it all up (which never seems to set up the same twice), get out your paintings, and try to arrange it all in a few hours. Leisurely it would take 5 hours, but you are under a deadline to get it ready in time. Then you have to find a place to park your car, van, or trailer, and walk/run back to your booth which can be a distance. (Sometimes I take a bicycle for that purpose)..... At this point, depending on the weather, you might be cold, hot or wet, definitely tired and perhaps sleepy, drinking another cup of coffee, trying to remember did you pack a lunch and all the details and rules of the show. Then the show opens. If you are lucky, you have it set up in time and no one can see what a disorganized mess you feel like, wishing you had the space across from you that gets morning sun and afternoon shade, when you already realize things will be heating up. Or you may be wondering why you took such a chance setting up in a parking lot, street, or tennis court when there was lightning crashing around, and wind trying to turn your booth into a sailboat and you are holding onto the side, trying to stop it from flying away. When someone says they wish they were you and all they had to do was paint all day, you bite your tongue and try to smile, and you find yourself envying all the people who leisurely stroll through the show, hoping you won't fall asleep in front of someone because you are so tired from an all night drive to get here, imagine you are that tired.
Once in awhile, during the day, someone will really connect with your art, and make you feel that what you are doing is worth all the trouble. More than a compliment, someone may have experienced something in your art that touches the soul, that is a shared revelation, can catch a bit of the essence of what it is that inspired you to paint or sculpt or however you created the artwork, in the first place.. However they may not have enough money to pay what you feel you need for the work, so you must decide if you will dicker or not on the price. You might not make the right decision, either to hold onto the artwork, or let it go cheap when you really need gas money and are uninsured, Either way you just can't know what is always best because there is a part of you that wants to fly, to kick money and materialism in the butt, to live and breathe art and not hassle over the business part of it. At the end of the day,someone may ask you how did you do. If you did well you thank God, but the person beside you might have got burnt, or vice-versa-----one thing is for certain, you never know what to expect.
At a good show, the weather has been fair, the people friendly, good sales for all the artists, someone to relieve you when you need it, no theft, and live music somewhere from musicians who know what they are doing.
At a "bad" show---well, you just don't want to know......
Regardless, when you are back home,(or feel home) and there is nothing pressing you like the ceiling caving in, sick people or pets to help, bookwork or any other unpleasant non-creative task to do, and the Lord or whatever benevolent force you believe in, has blessed you, then you will do what you love, you will give yourself over to your passion, and you will lose track of time, and immerse yourself in doing your art. Then you will feel good about yourself and your art, in the doing, and in the time to do it;
.....
There is a price to pay for every artwork, and sometimes a completion is followed by hardship, which enlightened daughter says, is to remind us that it isn't perfect here on earth. The spiritual quest draws us within for that one, which isn't so bad after all, being with a friend.
I fell in love with the room. It was bleak and empty
yet the large North Light window filled the room with
all the great light any artist could hope for.
Outside I could see the dismal cityscape...railroad tracks threading through rubble strewn streets, homeless people camped near the shelter, a dollar store, old historical homes, cop cars on their routine scope....
I took a large sheet of cloudy plastic and hung it over the drafty window. The walls were reflective, old brick painted white. The floor was enamel blue, and pre-trashed so I knew I wouldn't have to worry about spilling paint.
I figured I could make the rent payments ok, and at least paint religiously three times a week. In the large building there were four floors of studios full of artists and other unique characters. It was a great creative place. Once a month there was an art hop. The artists provided food and drink, and a variety of people mingled, enjoying the art and artists.
Into my studio I brought a futon, extra lights for night painting, and lots of art supplies. I also brought all the projects that had set for so long unfinished, swearing I would complete them. This I did.
To be away from a phone in a place without so many distractions as at home was a real joy.
devoting time to Web development for non-profits on environmental issues. Also filming foreclosure protests, nuclear issues, organics, chemical trespass etc.
Also of major interest is the practicality of homestead upkeep including barn restoration & repairs too numerous to mention.
The artist hopes to delve passionately into her art in the near future as she has caught up with major missions intolerant of time and patience.
