Adaptations

I knew when I graduated that I would have to be prepared for a period of adjustment: looking for work, getting used to work, moving, not having weekly classes with friends, peers, and professors. I thought this would last a few months, maybe even six considering I had an injured achilles. I remember thinking it was going well at one point, I was painting, I was glad to have more independence. But the weekly grind of full-time work, the constant search for medical providers willing to work with Washington State Insurance, and the trials of romance, seem to have frittered away most of a year. sometimes I am horrified and dismayed by this, I really only have two new pieces that I would consider finished. But aside from the stacks of studies, and things that didn't work out, I feel like I have traveled through the layers of an onion. Each skin a question, a worry, a piece of indoctrination about what art and artist are and should be. Of course, in the middle is just another piece of onion. And for that I pull myself out of the quicksand of excuses and hesitation to embrace the fact that the art inside me has its own life, and it is not what my mind has been envisioning.