Both photos are from my backyard art studio.
I've felt exceptionally grateful this week for my little family and our modest home. Even though we don't live in the city I'd have chosen, I feel close to making peace with it -- like it wouldn't kill me to stay at least another year. In fact, it seems like the smart choice, one that will allow us to pay off school loans and (ahem) a car loan. And if we stay put for a while we can save more money than if we uprooted.
I'm happy tinkering around in my backyard art studio, my dogs on the porch and music playing while I paint a decidedly nonacademic piece. We have a core group of solid friends, a house that I was dying to have six years ago and family.
Here, there are dinner parties, Sundays with the parents, arts happenings downtown and in surrounding areas and 15-minute commutes. I also have an awesome job, working in a picturesque town where everyone knows me as "the arts writer," and they all smile when they see me coming because I'm always asking about them. "And why did you paint this?" "What will you do next?" "Do you have a website?" "I love that! You're so clever."
Today I interviewed a Greek Orthodox artist priest who lived in Tibet, Hong Kong and Greece, and the Dali Lama owns one of his sculptures. He had some interesting stories to tell, as you can imagine. That's what I love about my work. You never know who you'll talk to next and what their story will be.So, while the situation here isn't ideal -- for reasons I'll not list now -- it's pretty close. My eyes are wide open, like I'm finally awake. It's not that I didn't see all of this before, it's just that I couldn't accept staying. But I think I might, and for now I'm happy with what I have. It's more than enough.
