A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with a gallery owner. It wasn’t until hours later when I was getting ready for bed that I realized that I had misrepresented myself.
I am a fan of Roy Laws. I don’t know if you’ve seen his work, but it is truly stunning. When I found out that it was at a local gallery I decided to go see it in person. (It’s so much more in person!) I had a morning available and decided to drive out to this gallery to look at Roy’s work.
While I was there, looking at Roy’s work, the gallery owner and I started talking. He was asking me about my work and was curious as to whether or not I was a full-time artist. My response? “I wish.”
What? “I wish.”?
No! I used to fucking wish! But now I am!
I am a full-time artist. I work at least 30 hours a week. That’s a minimum. I spend 30+ hours every week working, painting, experimenting, and promoting. I have a set 30 hours that I work. Then I tack on I don’t know how many hours blogging, sharing, promoting, and shipping work. Sometimes I’ll be on instagram while I’m grocery shopping. Sometimes, while running other errands, I’ll have to drop something at the post office. Sometimes, I’m responding to work emails while walking on the treadmill. Sometimes I’m frantically scribbling down ideas while on the phone with my mom.
The funny thing is, I never thought this would be an option for me. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I could be a full-time artist. But then life sort of cleared the way for it. Not just life; my husband. He said “Stay home and paint.” Like it was so simple. And it was. And I am grateful every day, but I’m still not used to it. I still haven’t adjusted to the concept. It took me six years just to say “I’m an artist.” when people asked “What do you do?”.
So, what do you do?