Morning Walk, 6×6, oil on gessoboard, $75 Buy Now
I used to take walks every morning, but in the past few months I’ve gotten away from it. It used to be a moment of calm in the breakfast/clothes/shoes/mickey mouse clubhouse chaos of the morning. A respite.
We took a walk today. I used raisins (a go-to) as a bribe in return for Ezra getting into the stroller and letting me strap him in without a fight. Just before we got home, we saw a cardinal, a beautiful red cardinal flitting in and out of the trees in a corner lot overgrown with trees.
I was thinking about what I should paint today and then, there he was, going about his business, unassuming, proud, indifferent.
I’ve said it before, but it continues to baffle me. Me? A painter of birds? Of all the subjects in all the world. But there’s something about it I know I haven’t quite articulated yet. Something on the horizon. A discovery looming in the distance.
When I first decided to pursue art as a career, I ran into a well-intentioned neighbor on one of my once regular morning walks. She asked me how my job was going. Okay, I replied. Don’t really see myself doing it long term. Really? She sounded surprised. What will you do instead?
Moment of truth. Be honest? Lie?
“I”m going to be an artist,” I answered.
“You gonna pay the bills with that?”
Why do people think no one in the history of the universe has ever done art not as a hobby but as a career? I get it. It’s hard. And ridiculously possible.
I’ve paid a lot of bills this month.