Friday, June 4, 2010

Bubbles


Hello, Dearies!!! My, my have I missed you!
Actually, is it even possible to have missed the cyber-world? Hmm.

I have been sitting in Stone Cup Cafe for three hours trying to catch up on all of my email fiasco. I don't have internet at my house or studio, so this is the place to go (all the other cafes in town seem to have dysfunctional wi-fi).
Prompted by my friend Jeff Cannon this morning, who, very wittily told me that he has de-fanned this blog because of my lack of writing, I decided to write tonight.
Not that I'm searching for fans..

However, I did kind of leave the last blog on a bit of a downer.... workshops? really? so sorry.

I've been traveling a lot this month. I was in Kentucky, Indiana, Georgia.....and all throughout Tennessee. I've seen many a cow, many a rainstorm, and I even saw a rainbow glare off of a semi truck as I was on the highway in Louisville! I was blinded by the oxymoron, to say the least.
I met some pretty interesting people on my travels too. Agents, clients, family, fellow-pit-stoppers, doctors, nurses, truckers, librarians, actors, painters.
Your eyes may have stopped at doctors and nurses. I'm fine. My mom had a surgery in Atlanta last week, which went VERY smoothly, thankfully.
But seeing all of these people got me thinking... how many of them think about art? I mean, here I am, thinking everyday how my profession is one of the most intense, pain- staking, soul-searching, rip- your- guts-out-and -take- it -personally sort of jobs. And then I stop at a gas station, look around and see a couple of locals smoking about 5 feet from the gas pumps, a cute high school girl reading a magazine behind the counter, and an old man with his dog falling asleep on the front bench.
Do any of them really give a sh#$t about art? really?
And what's worse, would I give a sh$%t about their professions if I knew what they were?

It occurs to me almost daily that we are all in little bubbles. Ok, this is not some new idea. It's the only way we can manage our lives, most of the time.
I'm going to get personal right now. An anonymous friend of mine, who is an artist, went for a weekend trip for a job interview for a corporation (the horrible word for an artist) that specialized in machinery. He went, sort of laboring over the idea that he was so different, that he would stand out too much, that he was a bit too "artsy" for the group of people he was interviewing with. He would sort of have to "deal" with his differences.
When he got back, he wept at the fact that these colleagues had taken him in as one of their own. They didn't pretend to understand everything about what he might do at the company. They just welcomed him and were willing to learn.
Needless to say, he took the job happily. It was a moment when, not only was he humbled, but also made to look out of the bubble.
I love these moments. When I'm really alert and awake, I live for them. Those moments when someone steps into your bubble, or you into theirs, and you have the odd feeling like you want to know more. Like your eyes are open. Like that is the only moment you've got.
So why was it so hard for me to do that at the gas station? And why is it so hard to do with my own friends back here in Chattanooga? Why am I always protecting myself?
It's the same with paint, for me. When I take that bizarre step into something new that I don't know AT ALL how to do, I am always curious and fascinated for more. I wonder what it would look like if every artist did this every day? Is it even possible? Or would our heads explode and confetti come flying out? I prefer to think I would have sprinkles in my head.... like the ones you get on soft-serve ice cream. :)

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