I have struggled with calling myself a professional artist. Even as I go through life accumulating successes I have a nasty case of imposter syndrome. And then there is my upbringing where I was taught that art was not a real career. I went the other direction with raising my kids and that is how I ended up with a son who is a professional musician. So many of his equally smart and talented peers had parents who discouraged them from pursuing the creative path.
OK Positive news. Both my prints sold before the show even opened to the public. I was elated. We were in a hotel in New Jersey the morning after my Neice’s wedding and I fear I might have woken up the entire floor with my squeals of joy. On the way home we made a small detour and visited Storm King Art Center, a place I have wanted to visit for years and going around and looking at all the amazing sculptures I kept smiling to myself that I was a “real artist” whose work might someday be taken seriously.
But now after being home a week and confronting the fact that I had to sort out the logistics of an international art sale, write up invoices, navigate the UK VAT and then think about future art the little devil on my shoulder telling me I am not a real artist has returned. Well one thing I can say is that I am a horrible business woman. Selling and navigating sales is not a strength of mine.
And now I am back to babysitting and nurturing my granddaughter, who insists she wants to be a real artist when she grows up. I want her to pursue her dreams. She has such a remarkable gift and her art at age 6.5 totally blows me away. Today while putting her baby sister down for a nap I left her and her other sister at the kitchen table making collages. I have a technique where I use a wet sponge in a yogurt container so it is not super messy. When I went upstairs she was just getting started. When I came down this is what she created
