Living My One Wild and Precious Life

Conversations That Shape an Artist’s Life

Navigating society as an artist can feel incredibly meaningful, but also incredibly lonely at times. I have only been a “true” professional artist for just under a year. I started focusing solely on painting back in January of this year. While I have gotten to know myself as an artist much more clearly—painting quite often, hosting my first solo show, getting into my first gallery, and selling work to complete strangers—I’ve also started to receive others’ opinions regarding this career. I was not prepared for the ignorant comments I would receive from complete strangers, or worse, from relatives who just don’t know any better.

I never felt judged for my choice to earn a Bachelor of Fine Arts, especially not during my time at university. I was surrounded by other artists and participated in thoughtful critiques that felt fulfilling to my practice. It was tough when my paintings were not interpreted the way I expected. I wanted to be a better artist. I wanted to be knowledgeable in the subject. Of course, there were times I felt I had to prove I was worthy as an artist, but this was to other artists. It felt like a much more interesting and rewarding challenge.

After graduating, it came as a bit of a shock when a relative said, “Oh, you can get a real job then!” after I mentioned the minor degree in Environmental and Sustainability Studies I also earned. At the time, I could not come up with something creative to say back, so I laughed and probably said something like “I guess!” Their comment did hurt and confuse me. Their house was designed to their liking, had paintings in it— even one of my own—so why would they say something like that? Reflecting on it now, they had a typical career, married a partner with a typical career which was evidently successful in monetary terms. This person simply could not picture a life that was not their own. They had followed a clear path and surrounded themselves with others who had done the same. Now I just feel sorry for them. It sounds like an isolated life, potentially leading to fear or hatred for others who are different from them.

We have all heard the saying “the starving artist.” It is no secret that being an entrepreneur is a nerve-racking, unpredictable path, but not an impossible one. The first few years of starting a business are challenging: creating a website, marketing yourself or your product (most likely both), and creating. Not much profit is being made. You just hope you have enough revenue to support the cost of supplies and a simple life. If you’re lucky, you’ll have people able to support you while you devote your time to this; otherwise, a day job that provides steady income is necessary. For me, I get to live at home, cluttering up my parents’ basement with the ebb and flow of paintings.

Meeting new people can go a few ways. A month or so back, while I was delivering some paintings to a gallery, I met the owner and we spoke about my work. We moved past the “oh these are beautiful” statements to more interesting topics: how I create, the process and materials, where I find my inspiration—the nitty-gritty stuff of what it means to create.

As I am writing this and reflecting, this does not sound special. All types of careers have these conversations. I know I could not hold a long, meaningful conversation about the stock market with a financial wealth investor (I know that because my dad is one), or really get an architect excited talking about the frame of a house (I know this because my cousin is one). I can’t be knowledgeable about everything, but I can try to show curiosity and thoughtfulness when speaking about someone else’s interest.

I am not perfect at this, but constantly trying to be better. I do not want to be the person who, after hearing about someone’s career, says “I know a lot of people who don’t succeed in what you’re trying to do,” “when are you going to get a real job,” or asks first, “Have you sold anything?” These type of responses inherently cause anxiety, and creates a wall of defense, closing all meaningful conversation. These conversations shows a lack of interest in the real work of life and focuses only on monetary success, which for me is the least interesting thing about a person. If we all imagined speaking to others as if they were on their deathbed, I guarantee we would frame our questions much more carefully.

“Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” —Mary Oliver.