How to be an artist
My sister’s pants.
A personal manifesto entitled “How To Be An Artist” to get me through.
Find a confidant to complain to about how unfair the world is and how no one appreciates art. Let it allllll out. Then when you’re done, keep making your art.
Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash Call yourself whatever you are. “I’m a writer.” “I’m a painter.” Whatever you are keep saying it. Say it a lot because when someone asks you out of the blue — “What do you do?” — you might stumble if you haven’t practiced. Just like when you were doing your piano recital at the age of 8 and stumbled horribly, dreadfully. Maybe you stopped and looked at your mom for help. Because suddenly there was an audience in the room. Note this feeling will happen again as an adult over this fearful question.
Be gentle with this inability to claim your space as an artist sometimes. Naming that you are a thing for which society might not be rewarding you monetarily or even through attention is a hard thing.
Make your primary friends the ones who respect art making and believe that artists matter and make our world better. It’s a trifecta of belief you’re looking for!
Maintain a sense of perspective about your value that is not connected to money. Did I already say that but slightly different? Fine, find different ways to say things to yourselves. Basically say whatever you need to say so you don’t quit. There is a big pull to doing a job that has a pension. You will have to resist. It’s a mental game.
When your husband (or friend) says that though you are discouraged, things can change in an instant—accept that morsel of hope. Accept all morsels.
Our Strangers by Lydia Davis.
It feels like a cross between a diary and meandering observations. Or as one reviewer calls it, “A barely clothed memoir.” Whatever it is, I like it. It’s for reading when I want something that feels straightforward. A few stray sentences to tell me something. Davis says in her almost poetry, “Come with me. Let’s just be in our lives.” I am particularly struck by her observations about marriage and…neighbours. They’re all so pithy and true!
“It is rare that neighbours, once on bad terms, find a way to improve relations, but it happens.”
The book is a constant stream of these little truths told in such a deceivingly simple way that you don’t even realize you’re being told something profound.
We started watching Survivor Season 42 (yep, just jumped right in!) over the Family Day weekend. And in my family everything comes with analysis. My mom wondered what the world had come to that that’s what we are doing with our time. I said what’s the difference between Survivor and sports? Sports date back to the Greeks, she said.
The conversation turned to why in Roman times people enjoyed watching people get eaten by tigers. My nephew wanted to unpack this for a while. My mind started to drift. Our conversation turned to corporal punishment at school. Both my father and brother-in-law had stories. The conversation was all happening over BBQ buffalo wings from Rexall because no grocery store was open and I was on dinner. My dad kept yelling how we are eating wings from Rexall. I said it was that or a bucket of KFC.
They were good wings and I love observations of little/big truths.
After a 12 year feud with my next door neighbour, we have mended fences, for lack of a better metaphor!