It's been a year since I took part time work, and 6 months since going full time. In that span I've been able to look back at how I was managing being a full time artist, and the verdict is: not well. I knew going in that I was a champion of wasting time and a queen of procrastination. I was ok with that- it's who I am, and that's not going to change much. What I'd convinced myself that I'd do more of (and didn't) is the day to day maintenance on the business side of things, not to mention painting a LOT more. With all that time, I could have been emailing, inquiring, searching for event and grant opportunities, looking at galleries that could be a good fit, submitting portfolios, entering competitions, updating my site, etsy page, and blog; finding new places to show, setting up future exhibitions, keeping my e-list consistently updated on where I'd be and when, blah-ditty-blah. I did very little of that because I hated it. At work in the grey cubicle I could have done that happily for hours instead of the horribly boring exercises in futility and corporate red tape wrangling that I was paid to do; but at home I don't have the patience for all that. I get antsy- to almost panic attack levels of aversion that drive me from the computer with a high heart rate. Funny- I don't have that reaction when playing solitaire or cruising FaceCrack....

My distaste for self promotion, allergic rejection of anything resembling maintenance or upkeep, and general lack of diligence for anything necessary but not fun has left me without the very base I need to make a living selling paintings. It was easy to see what I should have been doing, but all I could muster was a paltry effort of inconsistent emails to the list, and few spotty correspondences with galleries and shops. The artists who do all the footwork are the successful ones. I find all that to be emotionally draining- just the thought of all of that back & forth makes me want to take a nap. Hell- I'm doing better with posts on this site and Facebook now than I was a year ago!

In retrospect, I was going through the motions, and halfheartedly, at that. I enjoyed being an artistic slacker. :-) That freedom is just what I needed after 8 years in Dilbert Land. Now I wonder what the future holds for me as a professional artist. I don't have it in me to do what it takes to make a living off of what I create. I like the creating part and wish the rest would take care of itself. They make cars that can park themselves- where's the self-updating blog? Without the energy to explore every opportunity, perhaps I'll just concentrate on specific small things. I'm doing the First Thursday Street Gallery just July and August this year. The rest of the months negated any profit I made during the summer for the past 2 years. I do love the Big 200 show in December- that's fun. I'd love to try again for Portland Open Studios, but I work weekends now. Maybe I'll just incubate for a while- until I feel the urge to put myself out there again.

In the meantime, I'm having fun working on non-painting projects that are just for me. I just finished an altered doll that represents my dad and all I find frustrating about him. It's far more satisfying than working on little paintings that may never sell.
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Last weekend some friends were staying with us, and they fell in love with the painting that was on the easel. The colors in it went well with the fabric that she'd just bought to make curtains for a room in their house. They bought it. (I love art collecting friends!) She is really into butterflies (like I am with spiders), and asked if I would add a butterfly to the painting. I said sure! Why not? I looked at the painting and the fabric, and realized I had just the thing: a rusting metal butterfly wing that I'd picked up off the street years ago. It's one of those things that I wouldn't look at twice if it were new or part of a whole, but as a colorful, decomposing object without context it captured me. The remaining paint on it fit in with the painting, exactly matched the fabric and its complimentary colored embroidery, and the rust color picked up some subtle browns and copper tones in the trim. It was really quite amazing, and she loved it. I determined that there were a couple of places that the wing would fit into the composition, and we agreed which was better. I glued it at an angle to the canvas (at her request) so that it stands out slightly.

The addition doesn't fit in with anything else in the painting (other than the colors). It's the only part that sticks out from the canvas, and it's the only natural element in 1,200 square inches of straight lines, buildings, and architectural plans.

As I'm adding this element, the thought crosses my mind that some artists (most, I'm assuming) might be righteously indignant at the suggestion of "adding a butterfly" to a completed piece just because the buyer is into them. I tried to do a gut-check, but it just didn't bother me. And that felt weird- it seems like it should.

Maybe it's because they're friends (we've known him for 11 years and they married only recently), maybe it's because the colors went so beautifully together, or maybe I'm just not as attached to my paintings as I thought I was. I even can see meaning in it- when humanity has made an utter mess of the earth so that our own survival is unsustainable, we'll die out, and nature will start again. The butterfly will win over the skyscrapers and structure that humans attempted to enforce on earth, the cockroaches will have survived, weeds will take over paved streets, and ivy will claim any vertical surface it can reach.

It just feels weird that I wasn't offended by the idea. As if it means that I don't value my work and the concept I'm offering for thought. Perhaps a butterfly wing doesn't mute the message of the other 1,194 square inches.

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Apart from the week of the last entry, I haven't had much urge to paint. My brushes lay dry, and I don't really mind. That's just weird. I don't right about not feeling right. I was a full time artist (translation: "spoiled painter who wastes copious amounts of time") for almost a year before going to work part time at the restaurant. My 3 day a week schedule left me enough time to work on things, but not enough to waste. Maybe the 5 month transition from full time to part time to no time artist was what has saved me from choking.

I just feel like I've given up. I use my weekend to do some chores and slack off. Being the type B- personality I am, I need a LOT of time to waste to keep sane. Well, that and meds. Structured time for correspondence, webpage/blog/Facebook updates, finding and entering shows, and free hours to play with paint while I'm inspired and before it dries- I'm not motivated to make that fit. I can't say that it doesn't fit- it would it I wanted it to. My time is my responsibility. It's just easier not to. I feel as though I wasn't serious enough in the first place. I have true distaste for the marketing and correspondence part of the business. Most artists do, but the successful ones do it anyway, and competently. I tried, but it wasn't enough.

So now I'm a full time sous chef at a popular breakfast restaurant. I like it. Contrary to my employment at the bank, I'm not depressed on Tuesday nights (Tuesdays are my Sundays now) like I was on Sunday nights, knowing that I had to go back to grey cubicle prison the next day. I don't dread anything going to work now. I don't mind going to work. The only thing I don't like is the alarm clock, but I'm confident that's universal. Cooking is what I do now, and that's ok. And yet,that's not ok.

I've neatened my desk and painting areas recently- they've been stacking up with bits of other projects, and stuff I need to put away. I culled through my collections of ephemera- the general, wood, metal, and paper, and got rid of some things that don't interest me anymore. That part felt good- streamlining; letting go. Now I'm thinking I might fold the easel up for now. The plants that it's been blocking for a year need some love. And maybe that will let more air and light into the room- give me more room to breathe. Maybe it won't feel so... heavy; so obviously ignored.

But in the back of my head, I feel like I'm quitting, and that I never really was an artist to begin with. I've only been at this a few years- I can't "need a break." Maybe just a break from feeling guilty about not putting a satisfactory amount of time and effort into promoting myself.

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I was inspired to pick up a brush again for the first time in 3 months. That's how long I've been working full time at the restaurant. A normal person's 2 day weekend isn't enough time for me to complete necessary tasks and have some time to paint, so around New Year's I stayed up too late for 3 days running and played with texture. I knew I wanted to do some touch-ups on the piece that's been idle on the easel for that long, but I couldn't figure out what to do with it after that. I might call it done. I decided that it would be easier to start fresh, so I took out the only canvas I had stretched and began to pursue an idea I'd had before. Between a couple of layers of paint I have strands of thread, string, yarn, fishing line and embroidery floss among copious drips of paint and different glues. These will be painted over several times, and more layers added before the buildings are added. All this texture is falling rain- it's winter in Portland..

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This year, the Big 100 show has officially turned into the Big 200 show, with more than 250 artists participating. I have 10 8x8" pieces in it. 9 of them I put together an attached to a Monopoly board, painting them as one. I altered the composition of the whole so that each panel could stand alone. I'm pleased with how they came out, and hope they sell.

The show is at Settlement Galleries in Pioneer Mall in downtown Portland on the 3rd floor across the skybridge from the movie theater. 2pm-10pm. All art is 8"x8" originals and are $40. Cash (or credit) and carry.

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No, really. I've been offered a promotion to sous chef at Sanborn's- the restaurant where I've been enjoying working in the kitchen on weekends since May. The sous chef of 5 years moved on, and the new one didn't work out, so the owner offered me the position. It's a hell of a compliment. It was a no-brainer to give him an answer. I love to cook, I want to learn more, it's a gift of an opportunity, and lord knows we need to additional income.

There's only one downside: it's full time, so I'm back to 2 day weekends for the first time in 6 years (yes, I've been a spoiled brat). And I have this "art thing" that I've been pursuing for several years; slowly making progress. The 3 day work week I've had since May has been great for helping me focus my energy on the other 4 days. Now that will have to be squashed into 2 days and some afternoons, along with the necessities of laundry, grocery shopping and the like.

Obviously this will alter things. I haven't kept a set schedule for painting days, but having less time to do the same stuff will... present a challenge. One that I don't know if I'm up to . I'm not a type A personality that requires a day planner to be surgically implanted. I'm more of a type B- or a C+. I enjoy unscheduled down time, and lots of it. I'm good at it.

I'm effectively taking a hard right with my career path. SCREEEECH! I've signed on for a long term commitment with opportunity for advancement. I can't have 2 #1 career priorities. It's a scary fork in the road. It's too good an offer to pass up. But how am I going to advance my art career and attend weekend shows when I'll be tied to the griddle?

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Grants! Grant Dollars! I've been looking online for grant opportunities. I know that there's money out there, I just have to figure out how to get to them. I'm looking for help with medical expenses, as I've recently been diagnosed with a cataract. 36 is way too early for that to be normal, and I have none of the common causes: diabetes, smoking, corticosteroid use, eye injury, etc. Not only is my right eye blurry, but I have to find out why it's blurry. More doctor bills! The only way to fix it is with surgery (doctors remove the cloudy lens and put in a clear plastic one), which I don't have medical insurance for. The cataract will only get worse.

I've widened my search from just medical emergencies to all art grants. It's mind boggling. Every website I go to has a dozen or more grants or a dozen subdirectories with more grants. Most are quite specific, and I don't qualify. I don't know which is harder- wrapping my brain around how many opportunities there are, or that 99% of them aren't a match for me.

To add insult to injury, I'm reading through all this info while wearing the glasses I got yesterday- no correction in the left eye, and +4 in the right. I hope my brain figures out how to use them, because at the moment it's easier to see without them.
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I've taken some paintings to a professional photographer, and have updated the new images for 5 of them: What Matters, B&B, Vestiges, Good Enough, and Build Up. I'm really excited about having professional quality photos- I don't have the equipment or know-how to do that myself. Thanks to Dave at Perceptual Intent for his work!
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I'm proud to be part of this years Siren Nation fest- it should be a fun event! In it I have the world's smallest retrospective: Cityscape 2 (2007), Cityscape 60 (Feb 2010), and Cityscape 135 (last month). I guess I've been busy!

http://sirennation.org/2011/08

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You can come see me and buy paintings on each First Thursday from April through November on NW 13th Ave at Hoyt. I'm in space #110.
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Here it is- my new and very much improved website. This has more info, more variety, and more images than the last one.
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