During the past few weeks, I’ve been working on art-related projects – learning to use a tablet, setting up a shop page on my website (and all the logistics that entails), researching tax law and whether I can/should charge sales tax, submitting writing to contests, and generally making a flailing attempt at becoming An Artist, by which I mean someone who earns money for creative work. (Obviously this isn’t the actual definition of an artist, but it’s generally what one thinks when one hears the term.) My latest venture was to visit the Maker’s Mill in my town, where creative entrepreneurs and hobbyists can pay a membership fee to use any equipment in the building (as long as they’re certified), and there was a lot of equipment. I drooled all over the tour, resisting the urge to touch routers, lathes, sanders, looms, sewing machines, leather crafting tools, jewelry making sets, 3d printers… As soon as I got home, I filled out a volunteer application form in the hopes of getting a discount on the membership fee and making myself a permanent installation in the makerspace.
But some circumstances have changed.
And, at the end of the day, I don’t feel capable of optimistic dreaming, or, speaking more practically, managing the stress of ordinary adult life as well as managing a business, as well as being creative for a living, as well as marketing my art. It’s a lot to handle on a good day, and right now, it’s too much.
So I closed the shop side of my website and logged out of Instagram. I’m starting to throw out applications for regular ol’ 9-5 jobs, and checking for available housing all over my state in case I have to relocate. I’m trying not to entertain the possibility of leaving New Hampshire; the big wide world is too full of options for me to make that decision without a reason to go (i.e. a job first).
Someone I know describes moments like these as turning points – when multiple big changes happen in close succession, usually unsought. Sometimes life turns the corner for you, and it’s all you can do to go with the flow.
(The illustration at the top is of a card I sent to an older lady living alone, which is mostly unrelated to this post, but I felt like it needed to be art-related somehow.)
