Definitive Definition: Artist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The shock of realization hit this morning when, yet again, I acquiesced to  the societal need of showering. Five minutes after I should have clocked in I turned on the water…habitual tardiness. (Reuven, if you are reading this…do as I say, not as I do. Love, Mom ps. better yet…don’t read any further!) (Boss, if you are reading this…ummm, ah, well couldn’t find the car…or…)

Definition of an artist is an inner state. Not every artist is an acclaimed artist. Not every artist is recognized.

Here then are those clues to the true artist:

  

It’s been three days (or is it four) since showering/bathing. Finally you begrudge the time.

   

Sleep am. The alarm is set for two hours before leaving for work. Enough time to finish that item from last night. Research the thought not quite finished yesterday. Ahh, what about the new ‘something’ percolating around the edges of the mind, squeeze that in. Oops, forgot the coffee. Note to self…consider resetting the alarm to allow an extra 30 mins more in the am, late to work again.
   
Sleep pm. Goal: to be in bed by midnight. To be well-rested (with that AM alarm set for 6am) 11PM is optimal, just not realistic. OK. Trick self…projects that can be done while in bed at bedside…a lure that has developed permanence and a bit of dust. Reality check: 2am and another night that sleep will steal 4 hours from the day.
   
  Food. Staples become fruit, vegetables and bread. No cooking needed. Can be eaten in the studio out of hand. Friends start cooking for you. Last they looked the fridge was full of creative supplies. One shelf for edibles…barely. They think you may have ‘food issues’.  
 
While at work you are really in the studio. At the end of the work day, straight home. Errands? Avoided. Wait till the kids come home from college, errands will keep them busy!     

   Housekeeping. Easy…hire someone!  

    A special program is aired. It is on. It is inches from you. You forget to ‘look’.

Family is home. Holidays. Wonders if anything ‘special’ is planned. Hmm, maybe is the answer. You look up, 3am, the day, evening and night have passed blissfully in the studio. Guiltily loved ones are tucked in (mentally) on your way to catch a few of those demanding nods.

As artists we sacrifice everything for the sake of our art. When my children were small I sacrificed my art for them. I left an Art Major to pursue a Science Major with minors in English and Biology to assure work stability.
Today my art comes first.   

Am I selfish? There is “Art is a jealous mistress.” It is a relationship to which I am committed, enslaved, resigned, addicted, devoted, empowered.
I couldn’t ask for more.

Valerie