Sam hurt his knee.
I've made hardly any art in the past 10 months.
I don't like Greg Olsen and most other LDs artists.
I am very blessed.
I'm going to paint more.
The long version:
With the goal of complaining less this month I'm realizing that there is always something to complain about if we want to complain. Right now it would be the crappy fact that Sam hurt his knee at his soccer game last night and won't be able to bike or hike while we're in Moab this weekend. Despite this I'm feeling a little bit on top today.
Today I gathered all the artwork I've made since I moved to Denver and had a tragic slap in the face. 4 small paintings and 3 tiny collages. In a period of 10 months. That is pathetic. I have struggled to sit down and make art and that struggle has won. I've felt no motivation or purpose or justification to making art. Its not going to save someone's life like the skills my husband is learning will. Most people I'm around don't really care about art or see its relevance or importance (unless they think my paintings are best friends with Greg Olsen's and Simon Dewey's--then they could bear a 20 minute testimony about it's importance). . Its not something I can create a cute blog about, and sale on etsy and start a business through. It isn't something to be turned into tutorials so everyone can make their own version and proudly hang it on their wall. In fact, I don't even know what it is or what purpose it serves. I do know that I need to make it. I do know that it is work and like any creative habit it is hard work.
It's my last day interning at Plus Gallery and Ivar, the director, generously took some time to look at my work this afternoon. Our discussion was good. He was impressed with what he saw. He pointed me to some galleries that would suit me and said he'd mention my name to the owners. It's the first time someone has critically viewed my work out of the academia world and it felt really good. It was the feeling I've been searching for since I graduated after 3 short years of art school and felt like a very little fish in a very big ocean. It was a feeling of hope and potential. Having Ivar look at my work and take me seriously (something I need to do) was a big tender mercy--my art 'career' thus far has been full of them; stepping stones that come when I don't expect them that lead me to opportunities I don't deserve.
Sometimes I rely too much on others' expectations for me and not enough on my own expectations for myself. Sure, I'm married now. I'm expected to make a lovely home filled with lovely things and lovely meals. I'm expected to do my best to make my husband happy. I'm expected to be a great young womens' leader and camp director. I'm expected to do well at my job. I'm expected to make motherhood a priority when the time comes. I am happy and more than willing to do what I can to live up to all these expectations. I want to. But I need to do what I expect of myself which perhaps other's might not expect and be fine without. And that is to paint.
