money

The other night I was talking to my husband about a friend, and a job she’s taking that will decrease her income by about twenty grand a year. But she’s doing it for reasons other than financial gain. The lower amount is about $50,000.00 a year and my husband said he wished I made $50,000.00 a year. So do I. Or thirty or twenty for that matter.

Not making a living is the thing that embarrasses me the most about my life. I went wrong at so many points where I could have had a job. I can’t even truthfully say that it was to make art. I know artists who earn a living. They mostly have to. I’ve gotten by on odd jobs and family money, a windfall here and there. It was never important to my mother that I earn a living, nor that I know how to cook, and in fact she thought both things would only get in my way somehow. What sort of parent would think that? I know that I am smart and I suppose even now I could figure out a way to earn 20k if I had to, but I don’t have to, so I don’t. I keep thinking that if I could just sell drawings more consistently it would solve the problem, but how to do that? Especially in this recession climate.

I’m going to start a new drawing series today. I’m not sure of the point. But, it’s not even about the point anymore. It’s about having to do what I have to do. Sometimes I take solace when I read about people who are famous but never earned a dime. Or people who earned a lot but were horrible people (Bernie Madoff comes to mind). At least I don’t harm anyone. But still, I wish I could show myself and my husband that I could be an earner.

Here is part of the problem. This is an honest breakdown of my day. In the part of the day before I have to pick up Noah from school, I slept till a little past nine, I did e-mail, I went to get a blood test (for thyroid issues), drove to get gas for my car, then to get tampax and milk at the drugstore, then had lunch. At about 1:00 I sat down to draw. I had to stop at 2:15, to get Noah. In the time after I had him, I checked e-mail, I drove him to his voice lesson and waited for it to be over, I went with him to the supermarket to get a bunch of groceries. When we came home I unpacked the groceries, I put in a load of wash and I checked e-mail. Then I made dinner for Noah and me, read a bit of the times, and as soon as I am done writing here, will go and draw for maybe another hour and a half. And that’s more art than I usually do. Tomorrow will be worse. I am dropping Andy at the airport, then taking two drawings to be photographed. I pick Noah up at the usual time, and am going out for dinner with a friend. It’s ridiculous.

drawing

Today I finished a drawing I have worked on for at least a few months. It was large (for me) and had the usual earmarks of my drawings,which is to say, many thousands of tiny lines. I feel such a sense of accomplishment, but the only people who have seen it are my husband and my curator/friend, Judith. Judith liked it, I think, but she wasn’t jumping up and down or anything. It’s so strange to work on something for a long time, and think it’s got some merit. But then it sits there, looking at you and before long the Doubts start coming at you.

The more time I have to look at it the more time it gives me to question it’s excellence, or lack thereof. I wonder if it’s only mediocre and if it’s even remotely original. And I wonder if it will ever find it’s way out of my studio and on to a wall, of a gallery or at least a buyer.

Anyways, it’s done. So, onto the next project.

Mother’s Day

What a load of crap is mother’s day.

At any rate, I had been worried that if I started this blog I had to keep it up every single day. But now that I realize pretty much nobody reads it I feel I can be a bit of a slacker.

Today I’ve been up for almost three hours. I could have done so many things. Gone for a jog, cleaned part of the house, worked on my drawing. What I have been doing mostly, is reading and writing on the computer. Kind of wasteful, but very enjoyable, if only I didn’t always feel guilty. .

Soon though I am going to get to it and most likely, as soon as I have sat down with my cup of joe and put pen to paper, Noah will awaken and need breakfast. But, maybe not.

guilt

I feel guilty about everything.

Maybe guilt isn’t exactly the right word. What ever word fits for feeling like no matter which thing you choose to do, you have chosen the wrong thing.

I usually go to my gym today. But I didn’t. I did clean a vestibule floor which has smelled like cat pee for an embarrassingly long time. I did a very thorough job. I took out the mat and washed it, I took all the things out of the closet that had been on the floor. I found a white box which held a beuaitufl wooden hook we bought years ago. The white box was soaked in cat pee. I threw away the box and took out the hook, which is fine.I vacuumed the dust and then went at the floor, wearing my yellow rubber gloves of course, and went at it. I washed the main part of the floor outside the closet too, and it worked! No bad smell anymore. I put back some stuff and put other things in a bag for Salvation Army.

While I did that I could have been drawing. But if I had chosen to draw that particular chore would have been moved to another day, probably another week or even another month. I did end up getting some time to draw, but I spent more time on the floor. And I didn’t work out at all (unless you count washing the floor, which I don’t).

I do have some drawing time now, so I’ll get to it. The point is that there are many things waiting like the floor. I have calls to make and other things to wash. I have home projects to start (ripping the gross wallpaper off the walls of vestibule). But how am I to be a serious artist if I allow myself to spend more time cleaning and doing chores that in the end mean nothing to anyone but me?

Of course I also feel guilty for not cooking more, for not being a more involved citizen, for not writing letters to the president and teachers and city council people. For not being on the school board. For not having a real paid job. Oh, the list goes on and on. Does Julie Mehrtu think about these things? I doubt it, and she got five million dollars or so for a mural she made for disgusting Goldman Sachs. I bet she isn’t tortured by guilt. She got a MacArthur ‘genius’ grant. I don’t really think she is any sort of genius, except for being an artist who was paid five mil for something she created (with the help of a lot of assistants). If she doesn’t feel guilty, why should I? Though maybe she does feel guilty. I don’t actually know her. But she was asked about it in an interview for the New Yorker and she said she didn’t feel badly. She said she thought or hoped everything would work out in the end. What does that even mean??

delusion/illusion

I am heading out soon to go to NY and Philly. Normal people would find this a short, fun, easy breezy experience. I hate leaving. All I can think is that if I were only home I could get so much done. Drawing, writing, maybe start a home improvement project. As if!

It’s like when I was a little kid and thought that if nobody else was on the skating rink I would somehow be able to skate like Dorothy Hamill.

There is a myth about time, my personal myth. I think if I had endless blocks of time I’d soar artistically and in every other way. I would do all the things that don’t get done and they would be grand and notable.

The truth is that even if I had all the time in the world, and I do have plenty really, things would pretty much be the same. Sad, but true.

Men

There is a big long article in this past Sunday Times magazine, about some guy named Mike Allen. It’s about his job with Politico or some web news org. and about his power within Washington. It’s one of those depressingly male stories. Every single person mentioned is a man. The creators of the web news org are all men. The story is written by a man about Mike who was his best friend ten years ago and who he openly adores in a man love way. I’m sure the guy is power with a capitol P, but what else is new?I would rather read about Ariana Huffington.

Plus this Mike never sleeps, is “generous to a fault” but doesn’t share any personal information. Nobody knows exactly where he lives, when his birthday is, what his father did for a living etc. There’s somethint creepy about it. The truth is that withholding that sort of information is all about power. He thinks he has control because he knows everything about everyone. But in fact, that isn’t control. It’s just some sort of selfish solipsistic trip.

The best news of this day is that Obama realized that offshore drilling in more territories to appease the moron “drill baby drill” set is a terrible idea, given that this latest catastrophe in the Louisiana area will have financial and ecological repercussions for years to come. They can’t even figure out how to stop the leak! It’s the worst thing that could have happened but it’s also the best thing. It’s the first time in a long time where there almost seems to be a karmic action in play.

the NY Times

My favorite section of the sunday Times is Style. It sounds fluffy and frivolous, and some of it is, but not all of it. There is the Modern Love column which is often about dealing with love and loss, love and alzheimer’s, love and divorce, love and death. And there is Vows, the crown jewel of wedding announcements. I show them to Noah sometimes, when one is especially exotic and/or romantic. But I never enjoy the wedding column as much when I find out either the bride or groom, usually both, are republicans. I think about their future and how there inevitably will be young republicans and it ruins it for me.

television

Kelsey Grammer is trying to develop a channel called The Right something. Meaning right wing. Just what we need. So far there are no takers.

Yesterday on the View the women spent forever talking about thin vs.fat (new studies show an extra 10 pounds or so is healthier). It’s all been rehashed to death so many times and there is never any conclusion. At the same time they were blabbling about fat and skinny and Dancing with the Stars there was some beefcake guy being grilled about his actions with Goldman Sachs. Real news. I know the View isn’t a political show but they take themselves seriously and I think they could have said something a little more interesting than what they did.

I wonder what time they wake in the morning? I wonder how much each of them is paid. It seems like a great job. Roll out of bed and head to a tv studio for makeup. Chat about what you’re going to chat about, and then actually chat. How hard could that be?

blind

I have been having some eye trouble. I hope it’s one of those issues that when you finally are driven to make a doctor’s appointment turns out to be nothing. (I do have an appointment, but not until friday of next week). This morning I sort of fell a little on the stairs and now I feel kind of spooked.

I would not be good as one of those artists that has a real health issue. No painting with my toes or making new sorts of art if the world is suddenly dark. I have to think that this will all be fixable, but this next week is going to be a little rough since I have driving to do and art to make and that thing called a job.

The problem is that I seem to have a little double vision in my left eye. It had been only a morning thing, but now it’s lasting longer. I’m going to take my lame self to the gym and work out and maybe all that jogging on a treadmill will bounce my eye into the proper place. If not, I will still feel a little less sow like.

the NY experience

last thursday should have been the perfect day. I was in NY, there to look at art all day, with nobody to slow me down or speed me up. It was gorgeous outside, I had a plan, I had some money in my pocket.

First I went to an exhibit of Maira Kalman work. And I paid for her new book to be shipped to me, signed. The show was nice. Little bits of really special, really excellent, some things that were sort of ordinary and two paintings that to me, didn’t belong in the show at all. But I spent a long time looking and soaking it in, had a nice time looking through articles about her and learning some things I didn’t know.

Before going to MOMA, my next stop, I went to my favorite diner and had a burger (well done) and coffee. I had a good book to read; The Film Club, by David Gilmour, and I was just so relaxed.

Next it was to MOMA, mostly to see the William Kentridge ‘show’. To call it an exhibit just doesn’t do it justice. There were films, films sort of like something Jean Cocteau might do. They were beautiful, sad, thought provoking, entertaining, funny, scary. The wall work was amazing too. His drawings are just so fresh, so well rendered. He’s one of those people that can draw anything.

Marina Abromovic was on the same floor, sitting in a beautiful red dress, probably made for her. Anyone could wait in line and sit across from her and stare, for however long. I decided to look at her ‘work’ first. I meandered through films of her torturing herself, being threatened with a bow and arrow (her choice), screaming etc. Scattered through the rooms were more films and also reenactments of her earlier performances. Many of the ‘actors’ were naked. Buck naked. It’s a little startling to see naked people in a crowd of dressed people, and especially naked men, who look more naked than women for some reason. I just flew through everything to get a feel for it, which I think I did.

Then I looked at books and thought about buying one (on Kentridge) but I didn’t. Then I decided that I would wait to sit with MA. I got in line and it seemed iffy that I would make it in time. The museum closed at 5:30 and it was about 4:20. People can sit there as long as they want and some people were time hogs. But our line was moving along so that by 5 or so there were just two of us. Me and this nebbishy looking guy with a nice little knitted hat. He didn’t know anything about MA or her work but he was told about this by a friend and thought it would be cool. He asked me why I wanted to do it and I told him I DID know about MA and was a fan and felt this was a kind of once in a lifetime chance. I didn’t want to miss it. As he walked to go in I said “don’t use up all my time!”. But, he did. What a schmuck. He came out of the taped off area all smiles, right up to me. I looked at him and said “I really do not like you at all” and I stomped off. I was so angry, crazy angry.

But I walked through Times Sqare and went into some shops and calmed down.

When I got back to Brooklyn I was laughing at myself and looking forward to Chinese food with mom. But, I noticed my car had been towed and the rest of the night was spent in the bowels of Brooklyn trying to gain freedom for it. It would have been pretty cut and dry except that I didn’t have my insurance card. I ended up having to track down Andy using borrowed cell phones from other tow traumatized people, every last one of whom was kind and gracious, and wait for him to find and fax the card, which he did. Then mom and I got lost trying to get back to her house. But, we made it.

What a strange end to the perfect day.

We never had Chinese food. We had leftover chicken and stuffing and a glass of scotch each.