Of consequence

The eastern sky showed promise, as did the west, for a sunset worth putting the book aside and going into the house to fetch my camera. It wasn't quite the ideal time for capturing the color of the clouds, so I set down to read a bit more. I'd wait another ten minutes or so. But the low clouds had a different idea (if one can accept such a notion, a higher power and all of that) and so I looked elsewhere.

The book? "Art & Fear" by David Bayles and Ted Orland. An easy read about the things a young artist can anticipate as they try to make a go of art after school. It should be required reading for every undergrad art student, and judging by this edition, the fourteenth printing, it was making its way into many hands for a while, at least until 2002.

An easy read because I have started it twice now, getting more than halfway through it once before without remembering much of the advice it has to offer the second time around. Not because I skimmed the first time or that it is not a useful book, but because much of what it discussed I already knew. But this time I read further, almost to the end. I imagine I will finish it before bed, for the second half deals more with things pertinent to this stage of my life. Regardless, I do wish I would have read this book when it was first published in 1993.

I received my MFA in 1992. Then, like now, I wanted to teach, not only to make a livable salary but also doing something I loved, which was discuss ideas about a wide range of things, which is probably more likely to happen in an art program than any other field. Everything is fodder for the imaginative mind. Yet, I quickly learned that people with MFAs are fodder themselves, given a class to teach here and there, maybe even a full load, but at a lower pay that barely covers bills, and so the burn-out rate is huge. Conveniently, there are more MFAs waiting, ready and willing to pick up the fallen flag and march forth.

Still, I thought I was different, admittedly a conceit artists must believe to persevere, and perhaps a myth perpetuated within the very system in which I wanted to remain. The energy given off by idealism. And perhaps best left to the young.

The book describes it all too well, the inner workings of the system, things of which I had little idea. And now that another hiring season has passed without an interview, let alone a request for letters of reference (and I had some heavy-hitters ready to write them), I believe that I am best served by filing this desire under that bursting file, "Pipe Dreams."

Shame, really. But passion is not enough. Nor is a modicum of success in this arena.  Nor is hope.  Not that I have lost any of these. And if the book is reliable, I may be better off as an artist to not be teaching. No, it's more what to do with this life lesson, one better learned at a much younger age.

Such lessons instill a pragmatism, a talent, it seems, that to-date has been elusive. And although I paid off my student loans many, many years ago, there remains a cost.

In a way, this blog is emblematic. Before writing tonight, I spent a couple hours looking at three different website for jobs in my region. I do this to some degree nearly every day. As one might suspect, there is not much to choose from for a fifty-seven year old guy who can write halfway decent prose, knows a bit about farming and who otherwise spends his time taking photographs and painting with childlike impertinence.  Can you imagine how hard it is for someone like me to inquire about a floor job at a hardware store chain? And I don't mean this in some sort of elitist way. I have been a janitor, a security guard and a stock clerk, all jobs I found worthwhile. But I was younger then. I can't shake the feeling that an old codger applying for those same jobs, even if I had the stamina, doesn't come across as damaged goods. And so, I turn to this space, a place of comfort and relative security. A place where I have a say.

Ah, so tragic! Perhaps a taint akin to pathos. Still, my few readers, know that I have not given up. I have something to show for this life, no matter what turns lie ahead. I recognize beauty when I see it, and furthermore, manage to make something of it that might — for there are no guarantees — endure.

Plus, today I took the perfect photo for the blog header.

Now, if I can only figure out how to make it into a header. So much left to learn....