It Is Work
I am driving down the highway, reviewing my reference images from our travels in my mind and thinking about which will make paintings, when he says “aren’t you glad you don’t have to go back to work tomorrow?”
I think for a moment about how I had woke early to finalize the sale of a painting and make payment arrangements before we left the hotel. I think about how I had been agonizing over a representation offer for two days that I have decided to decline. I think about the art students’ assignment notices I have placed in a folder while we are traveling so I can review them when we get home. I think about how, in just five days, I have to go pick up a large solo show with several big paintings from a neighbouring island. They must be carefully packed and loaded so that they will all fit in the car and nothing will get damaged. It is a nerve-raking and difficult task. I think about the posters that still need to be finished, printed and put up for the November show in my gallery. I think about the two video conversations about paintings that still needed to be edited. I think about the paintings that are just begging and demanding me to paint.
I reply “I do love my work. But it is work. And though the past ten days have been delightful, I have still been working and I will continue working tomorrow. That is what artists do. Yes, this is different than other work I have done but it is still very much work and often hard and demanding work.”
There is a longer pause broken only by the pronounced hum of the tires on the highway.
“Well….” an arm waves to indicate “Of course, of course! But it is not the same.”
What can I say?
As an artist, I love my work. But it is work, often hard and demanding work.
Please don’t mistake my usual smile, cheerfulness and enthusiasm for ease.