“SOMEONE who shall remain nameless, who sleeps beside me every night and is carrying the financial load while i rehearse the ups and downs of finding projects in the creative field, slipped and called my work a “hobby”. as in: something i’m doing until a real job comes along. it was a quiet day.
i pondered inside that maybe a bastion of support was starting to lean a little. i pondered that i would not be validated by anyone other than myself, because an artist secure in herself needs only her own validation, blah blah.
how does it look to someone on the outside? he chafes at the term ‘artist’ when it is used by everyone from a sports commentator (”look at that shot! the man is an artist!“) to the street kid with the blanket on the sidewalk, displaying leather chokers and clay beads. i let him vent, smug in my knowledge that art is subjective and it’s a circular subject anyway. he’s an engineer, and that term gets thrown around too.
this company of mine has been a registered, tax-deferring entity for several years, but it’s only been within the last two that it’s taken on more than a part-time, in-addition-to-a-job status. i work much more than 40 hours a week at it: promoting it, organizing it, proposing projects, working on the projects that come in, editing the shoots and so forth. but what’s the proof that it should go on (as a full-time endeavor)? applause? being published? a successful art show?
money. it’s starting to look that way. i know, mammon, filthy lucre, the American Way, all that stuff. i hate admitting it. it’s not what motivates me to create, and i think we all would agree we’d do art for no money if we could, but many of us aren’t dipping into a trust fund until the Big Thing comes along. a lot of us are hoping to pay off the business credit card, or get new carpet or keep heads above water with things like groceries and bills. and if we can do what we love AND the money comes in, that is, i’m sorry, a validation. one with butter and sour cream and chives on it. even the kid on the street agrees.
so with one foot on the dock and one in the boat, i’m going to keep going. the money thing messes with the creative half of my brain (i can never remember which side that is), but that’s an irritant i’ll have to live with.
he apologized later, by the way. he knows. he knows.
