Since I’m finishing the draft of my first book, well second, counting my dissertation, I’ve decided to put myself “out there” so to speak. Allowing myself to be completely vulnerable to the vast cyber universe of seriously critical anonyms. I barely have enough time to do the things I need to do and no time to do the things I want to do in my new life-path or focus, that of producing realistic oil paintings with a consistent quality of excellence. Anyone who paints can tell you just how difficult it is. So many things to think about. So much more than in any of the so-called brilliant fields in which I’ve actually worked–where people think they are doing really difficult stuff. SO MUCH HARDER. There are edges, values, hues, saturation, composition, texture and so on. This comes from a person who has done so, so many things in 54 years of life. Actually an embarrassingly ridiculous amount of dabbling has gone on in my life and now I’m trying like hell to focus….to focus on things that bring me peace and serenity and satisfaction. Also, I terribly need something to capture my attention, with a Zen-like flow. I get bored quickly, hence, the dossier.
It has taken me a long time and a lot of heart-ache to come to the conclusion that I am an artist before anything else. I have always been an artist and for some bizarre reason I tried to be so many things before I relented my will to the often lonely and difficult world of making art. And I might add, that it never, ever worked…for me, that is. However, my octogenarian mother always reminds me, had I stayed with my last official, corporate position I could now be a publisher. She doesn’t realize how that would never EVER have happened with my anti-corporate disposition. Although, only days out of college with a B.A. degree, I went to the epicenter of excitement, my perceived universe of grandeur, the New York City advertising industry. I was such a good actress that I charmed 5 Vice Presidents of 5 top-ten worldwide agencies to give me a start as a Media Planner. I succeeded such that one of these gentleman actually called my parents in Pennsylvania to tell me that he has never hired a person for my position without an M.B.A. Isn’t that just dandy? How lucky for me…or maybe for them. Nah. On second thought, not for them, because I usually was fired once the artist was discovered. They saw it before I did. I continued to persevere in a city I loved but in corporations I despised. Why, I wonder, do we figure it out so late in life that there isn’t enough time left to do it all. The meaningful stuff, that is??