Much of this ridiculous blog gets written in periods of waiting, and when I do not have time to wait, no writing gets done. Currently, I’m able to set thumbs to glass because I’m in the process of having a leg tattooed. Yes, really.
As you might be aware, thanks to a lot of support, I just had a whirlwind Coming-Of-Age style art making escape fueled by train, bus and whatever vehicle would get me there remotely on time. I got to use sparkling facilities next to fascinating people, producing new work, and all sorts of brain-building, tasty, image-memory-art fodder.
Then I had to go back to my dirty apartment. And to the job that pays for that apartment. And to the “summer in a college town” humid sleepwalk through a social bubble reality cannot penetrate.
My day-to-day attempts to foster a creative career while not starving are unfortunately not as picturesque as waking up to train window views of rainbow skies basking over the American West
But The Damned put it best: Life goes on.
[Yes we’ve reached the point of #relatability that I’m referencing song lyrics. You’re welcome and/or I’m sorry]
What I’m trying to build to is that though it’s ultimately not as consumable on social media, cursing Adobe InDesign for six hours after rinsing off a full shift’s worth of sweat and bacon grease is equally fueling whatever work carries me into grad school/ workshops/ internships/ jobs/ wherever I end up when I’m done the “sticking in town as long as sticking in town is working” chapter of independence. That travel arc? Juicy. Sexy. Critical. But if it’s an anomaly, a blip, a filler episode, rather than a root nourishing the “Susanna Moving Through Life” tree, it had no point. The adventure week-point-five was glossy on the surface. It facilitated new doors I wouldn’t be able to open on my own. But in order for it to be powerful long term it’s got to be folded into the experiential whole that includes being on hold with TD Bank for multiple hours far too often for my liking.
I’m trying to avoid having unrelated fragments of “Good Ol’ Days” and instead have a clear, identifiable, career foundation. Is that a tall order for a twenty-two year old bottle-blonde art quack? Potentially. Only time will tell. Let’s see if I actually get around to hand working those watercolor monotypes in addition to my regular weekly task list first.