Confess

Today I woke up with the painting/commission/ obsession that I'm currently working on in the studio at the for front of my mind. More so than usual.

this would be expected, because I usually paint late into the night until the point of exhaustion, but when I wake up, I am supposed to be no longer that musing artist, but instead mommy.

This tug of war on my consciousness led me to muse about my endeavor to compartmentalize my modes of being.

During the day I am supposed to purely have my amazing daughter as my focus. And housework, etc.
On many evenings I am engaging with my wonderful clientele at my bar and late at night I am alone, but still at work aiming for creative abandon and production in the studio.
Let alone time for my wonderful Joel...

I found this quote tonight but I have not had time to research its context...

"A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession."
~Camus

I don't know about the guilt part in this context, and I am Protestant not catholic, but this quotes resonates in me. There is that alone time- just God, me and that artwork that is necessary. I can identify it as a sort of confession.

It needs to be solitary. It needs to be fully involved- in whole hearted abandon. I need to process over my heartaches and cares as I create.

But when this is achieved well, it can make it hard to progress into the next priority.
(I guess this is actually where that "guilt" part comes in...)

I wake up to the greatest joy of my life and the biggest responsibility. She says "momma" and I say truthfully, "that's me! It's the best thing that I've ever been!"

And this is the most true statement I could say but it is slightly diss heartened by the lack of energy to fully back it up.
though I try very very hard to overcome the effects of sleep deprivation for her.

It's a battle that she has to win, ideally my art to survive and some solitude found in the process... Please.

The sparrow

Often things are tight financially- recently especially so.
(A bunch of random bills came up - all at the same time...)

There are about 12 sparrows that live in my very small, urban yard. Often I'm taking a breather outside with financial burdens on my mind and their communications back and forth finally distract me.
Thank you lord for the reminder- somehow and often in a very humbling turn of events- it will be provided.
( mind you- I would starve,etc. before any want touched my daughter. )

Then when only faith (or borrowing money from loved ones) is left to make the bills, a stranger in Michigan (who stumbled upon my work online) wants to buy a painting. And suddenly I am able to make my bills and buy the needed supplies to complete my work for the next event.

Whew...
Thank you!

Is it too cliche to say to a random
buyer that they just saved my bottom from choosing diapers over paying the electric bill? I held my tongue.

To those that want to relish in the tragedy of the starving artist- I've lived that (literally) but luckily for the most part things have progressed positively for me.

To those who say to me that they're glad I have such a nice "hobby"- arg.
Please refer to all of the above.