Not Taken for Granted

Lately, my time has been focused on putting together thoughts and words preparing to write a grant proposal. Most people don't realize how much paperwork goes into being an artist. Just this last week, when a new friend found out I was an artist, said,

"Oh! That must be so peaceful....to paint all the time."

To which I replied,

"It's a lot of hard work."

Sure, some days the paint seems to find it's own path, and it feels like I'm painting in the zone. But by and large, it's persistant hard work. Not only is the act of painting a job in and of itself, but the life of an artist requires paperwork out the wazoo; case in point, the grant proposal.

My friend Carrie very kindly wrote an article about my first big solo exhibit a year and a few months ago. As a thank you, I promised her a sketch. She gave me some photos of her kids, we met at at least two different playgrounds for me to take photos of her kids, and then I lost all those images from my camera card...well, it took a while to get everything in order to draw this for her.

She came over yesterday to help write me this grant proposal. If the grant isn't granted, I don't want it to be because it wasn't well written. Words are powerful. Her skill, another friend's advice, and my thoughts could be a winning combination. If anything, it won't detract from what the committee accepts. The idea is that the merit of my art will show through and be enhanced by a well written proposal.

Back to Carrie: She was walking through the house looking at all the new art on the walls while I was gathering the little people for Hampton to play with, when I heard a scream from the studio. She had seen this drawing on the easel and it stunned her...in a good way. It's the only image I had left to work with after a year's worth of various mishaps. It's a pastel on linen drawing of Carrie, her son Hampton, and daughter Eliza reading a book. She liked it so much she began to cry.