Montgomery Afternoon. Oil on stretched canvas, 4x12This adventure, this sometimes terrifying, sometimes reviving, always enlightening journey might be coming to an end.
The truths of the world and our position in it are, today, gobbling up my little batch of courage. The demands are too great, my resources too small, my store of courage too meager.
I have not given up, not yet, but the possibility of giving up has lurched into my landscape and refuses to be denied.
The reasons are numerous and obvious. Our home in New York that hasn't yet sold. The outlay of funds for the new car. The cost of insurance, the mortgage, groceries, heat, pets, everything, and only the most meager fraction of any of it is offset by what I'm earning from my painting.
Recently, too, I have had rejection after rejection after rejection. I know I'm just starting out, and that I should expect rejection, but in all honesty, I don't. I don't expect it and I don't accept it - or at least not with any grace.
There can be no halfway about this. Painting is either my life's work, my life's mission, or it is just a hobby. Doing what I am doing now takes every ounce of my energy. It takes more than newspaper work ever took. And while it leaves me with less time than newspapers did, it leaves me - usually - with optimism and strength, imagination and verve and a rollicking desire to see more and to live better and bigger and more brightly.
I am hoping that I will pass by this low place. I am hoping that in writing this, and sharing it, I will dissolve it. I am hoping.
Meantime, I am in New York, getting estimates for work on the house. My postings are likely to be sporadic for a couple days here, as there is no internet at 20 Grove St.
Thanks for reading.
The truths of the world and our position in it are, today, gobbling up my little batch of courage. The demands are too great, my resources too small, my store of courage too meager.
I have not given up, not yet, but the possibility of giving up has lurched into my landscape and refuses to be denied.
The reasons are numerous and obvious. Our home in New York that hasn't yet sold. The outlay of funds for the new car. The cost of insurance, the mortgage, groceries, heat, pets, everything, and only the most meager fraction of any of it is offset by what I'm earning from my painting.
Recently, too, I have had rejection after rejection after rejection. I know I'm just starting out, and that I should expect rejection, but in all honesty, I don't. I don't expect it and I don't accept it - or at least not with any grace.
There can be no halfway about this. Painting is either my life's work, my life's mission, or it is just a hobby. Doing what I am doing now takes every ounce of my energy. It takes more than newspaper work ever took. And while it leaves me with less time than newspapers did, it leaves me - usually - with optimism and strength, imagination and verve and a rollicking desire to see more and to live better and bigger and more brightly.
I am hoping that I will pass by this low place. I am hoping that in writing this, and sharing it, I will dissolve it. I am hoping.
Meantime, I am in New York, getting estimates for work on the house. My postings are likely to be sporadic for a couple days here, as there is no internet at 20 Grove St.
Thanks for reading.
1 comment:
It is you passion and so it is not your hobby. I'm sorry that you had to begin this path at a time where all artists are feeling the economic crunch. The same crunch affected your home sale. I'm sending positive vibes to my East Coast pal. hugs.
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