Life changes and the demands on the freelance illustration
lifestyle have brought me to taking a second ‘full time’ job.
I am lucky
compared to many in the same position; for one, I was offered the position out
of nowhere, yet at the right time. Two, it is a job in the art field, dealing
with paint and creative decision-making. And lastly, the unconventional company
not only has me as a full-time seasonal employee, but with the end date known,
the possibility for returning next season is likely a renewed offer that I may
or may not play with.
My art world has now suddenly become the Otherworld - the
Underworld, that place I have to steel away to when no one is looking – and
night is the time for it.
Perhaps I should conceptualize my own themed Superhero
costume?
I’m struggling with this because, for a while after
graduation, particularly within the past half year, I have been able to work in
daylight, and with a regular, ever strengthening discipline to encourage Studio
work straight off the morning routine. Not only did I have the personal
attention to apply myself, I had the solitude to help facilitate it as well. My
social life was streamlined, based upon the occasion of art related interaction.
Now, with the supplemental job and major paradigm shifts, I have new and non-artist associations interacting with me
daily, presenting their interesting but different worlds to me, and wondering
why I long for ‘more’ time in my own, again. Not only from a personal
gratification perspective, which is certainly a significant part, but also from
a strictly business understanding of the lifestyle, the imperatives of my
commitment are lost on most, if only in part.
Petar Meselzija said at Illuxcon, “an artist must live their
art like a monk lives his religion”. I have known what that full emersion feels
like, and I struggle with the fear that I am not a worthy
Artist – Illustrator – for often failing now to live my art fully.
So it goes, sometimes. I'll come back to my art after this next interval on lifestyle.
I notice
other professional artists and their significant others, their spouses, and it
makes me think hopefully of the interpersonal success they seem to represent.
Rebecca Guay, Gregory Manchess, Donato Giancola, PJ Lynch, Omar Rayyan, etc.,
etc. Perhaps it is an encouraging thing there are so many who have long-term
relationships in the business? Even dear friends and loved ones who are
creative, though not strictly professional, demonstrate a durability in
combining their most intimately personal art world with their love.
But then I wonder, how do they navigate the inevitable
difficulties, the misunderstandings? Such things will always be there, after all.
That
pain-staking reiteration – in as clear words as you can think of – to your
loved ones on how you need to do such and such, or how all these very logical
business reasons explain the necessity of this task over here, and how every
time it just yields that weary indulgence from said loved one. It is a hurtful
ache when they generalize or wash out the weight of your words with,
“Yeah, I know, your ‘document work’, your ‘studio time’. “I know”, I “got it”.
It only makes you less confidant they do, because how can a loved one who tires
of your commitment so readily be truly understanding and supportive? Maybe
remaining positive and productive in spite of this occasional regression in
one’s relationship is based on a kind of sympathetic acceptance?
Still, consider artists of other callings, such as the Avant
cellist Zoe Keating; how do they manage a productive career with a child, a
marriage, a social life, all constructed in amongst a passionate work base?
That is to mean reasonably happy, loving, supportive lives with positive
child-rearing, spousal-dynamics, and rejuvenating, playful friends, naturally.
But there are benefits to this drastic paradigm shift of
mine that should be noted.
I have discovered – quite late in the game – the podcasts of
‘The Illustration Underground’ by Kevin Cross and Mark Rudolf, professional
illustrators talking the demands of the lifestyle. I’ve been listening to the
episodes while at my second job - to prime my psyche for the shift into Studio
mode, if you will – and one of many thoughts that rung true for me was, and I
am paraphrasing: “you’ve got to see the silver linings for all the dark clouds
on the horizon”.
I've made this into "Perfect perceiving silver linings for all the dark clouds".
So, irregularity forcing my hand means I exercise my
creativity and integrity to be stronger at seizing any available moment. I’m
working my mental muscles towards more competent ingenuity and flexibility, yet
another thing Cross and Rudolf stress as being an imperative survival skill in
the business. All those dark clouds they are talking about? They are the constant, turbulent weather of an artist's horizon, representing little and large upheavals in any given aspect of freelance responsibility.
I also have to be more inventive and dynamic with my time,
with everyone, because it is like gymnast work to maneuver where art can fit
amongst the company of people. I’ve been called a ‘lone wolf’ by many, and even
since young childhood I have been aware of my solitary constitution. As an
adult, as an illustrator, with my broad-bent goals, it is a constant study in
adaptation, at best, practicing creative space in a more social environment.
Solitude is a treat now, an additional pleasure when it
comes, and I am learning how to turn the lack of it into the ‘golden state’ I
need it to be, for the rest of the time. I can no longer be pampered by solitude.
And, by knowing others of non-artist professions, not simply
more people, I am given regular practice at general human interaction.
I honestly refer to it that way; it’s ‘practice’. I can talk
about art and the creative life endlessly, philosophical musings and literary
discussions flowing easily as well - it is a safe realm for an artist - but to quote a fun BBC comedy, “I’m not
very good at chit-chat…I’m not even very good at chit”, never have been, so
learning where the interest lies in it has advanced as a more fascinating
preoccupation for me. It is a challenge that will deepen my skills in the long run.
Finally, all of these benefits could not be positive as they
are without the quality and jovial nature of the people who have been involved
in my experiences. There has to be that initial affection and support in order
for an artist’s comfort level to allow them to connect deeply with others, I think.
Oh yes, and of course, being able to make my own Superhero
costume is only ever a good thing.
So back to that Underworld, where all these challenges are overcome!
In the big picture, I’m still only just starting to work on
my craft, to figure the trick out, to reach and grab hold of ‘it’. It isn’t as
though, because I’ve declared myself an intentional, professionally pursuing
freelance illustrator, I must know my whole process, let alone THE process of
it all. It isn’t as if that declaration means I now represent some fixed, set
method of being an artist. There is no switch to be flipped going from hobbyist
or student to professional. No. That declaration means I intend to see my
passions through, and I may just need all the help and support anyone is happy
to provide.
And the nature of my intent, my passions, is entirely play. I
intend to live off of playing, to live life in a state of permanent flux; there's a fitting oxymoron.
The artist intending to be an artist for life is choosing a
life ‘childlike’, and they will have to choose that every day of their pursuit.
It is almost a cop-out of a career choice, were it not for how bloody difficult
and frustrating - even uncomfortable! - it is. Because an artist has to have the
ability and be willing to endure the clear discomfort of working out problems,
and discovering true solutions. Creative work has the nature of eating time
more than any other activity, and it will feast while you delve the crannies of
the universe – or the more daunting crannies of your own imagination – in order
to capture the genius of fresh fingerprints, of signature approaches. Our 'superpower', right there.
On top of striving for success in this most serious play,
the artist has to turn on their heel and be the boss as well. No creator
without a capacity for business will get farther than his or her ‘canvas’.
And where is my 'canvas' at now? Upon recent contemplation, I've identified the way it has evolved with my own growth.
My older work, from high school and early college, was black
and white or, at the most, limited color. It had this all-pervasive presence of
white, of void, of innocence and blinding light.
The more middle work, through the majority of college including
my culminating thesis, and even the lingering legs of stuff immediately after
graduation, was tentative exploration manifested through color of an earthy palette
and natural content.
My new phase, the current direction I am spying to sharpen
out, is themed in ‘chiaroscuro’, fractured, vivid color, and an emerging 'darkness'.
Nothing defeatist, simply of a stronger mettle and a fuller
emotional range. More mature.
I also hit upon the central themes and iconography now
important to my creativity. My personal work is forming a kind of thesis, or at
least collection, which illustrates the tenacity for life that I wish to
embody. With all the challenges dominant in my current relationships, I must more
than ever process the struggle creatively.
Woods - and clearings in woods - mermaids, birds of prey,
roses, knives, archery, stronger light and shadow, abundant nature, particular
flowers, some form of a confrontation, and some level of violence are all
important to these new concepts.
This is a lot of work. It is important work. And it is an investment of my energy, as it should be.
As always, process and progress will be posted here, such as the development of "The Draw" at the beginning of this entry, and other happenings on my website shop.
"Adapt and overcome" - Viggo Mortensen
Mairin-Taj Caya