Here we are at the end of
February...the snow is thick on the ground and falling. The
temperatures have been fluctuating wildly, often within the space of
10 or 12 hours. I am on a short break between opera and ballet in my
“other” job, and even 4 days in feeling pretty wrung out. And I
have sent off another vendor application and fee.
It is cold, I am tired and want little
more than to huddle on the couch with a warm kitten in my lap and
drink a boatload of tea. The thought of going to even my indoor
studio, ('cause there is no way I'm going out to the forge today!)
wears me out. But in its own way so does the list of ideas in my
head, the longer they wait to be attempted the more wearing they are.
There are far too many days when just the idea of making dinner is
more daunting than I can face, but still, I persist. I make things.
In spite of shows that are financially
a bust (rarely is there a show that does not have some non-monetary
value for me in friends, contacts, and learning)...in spite of all
the work that went into an Etsy site that feels marginally
futile(views but no sales)...in spite of all the evidence to the
contrary I persist.
Like many artists entrepreneurs and
small businesses who struggle in the face of a shift in the economic
trends, the fashion trends, the societal trends...for some reason we
all persist. In my case, I hedge my bets by having a “job” - my
part-time career that has so often paid the way for my business. And
I'm one of the lucky ones in the way that works out for me.
For
many of us, we know – we believe – that the work is good. It is
not a fault of the work. For most of us we are driven, we need
to do the work – whatever it is. We know that for one reason or
another it is important on some fundamental level.
It
is hard, in the cold dark hours, but we do it. We keep the faith.
We keep doing the work even when the work feels like it is our
undoing.
Maybe
we are mad, mad as the proverbial chemically compromised Hatter.
So,
maybe today I will huddle on the couch...but before my time at home
is out I will pick up the hammer, or the pliers. I will rediscover
the joys of that costly bag of stones I bought just waiting to be
worked. I will move some of the ideas out of my head and let them
flow from my hands. Some of them may still be with me ten years on,
but even knowing won't stop me.