caricature girl

“The artist committing himself to his calling 

has volunteered for hell whether he knows it or not.”
~Steven Pressfield

Many people have asked me how I have been doing 

since I shut my cafe and committed myself to painting.

Well, to answer that question...

the last two months of painting full time 

have been hell.

(Just to clarify, 

I don't mean 

the "working at Walmart for minimum wage" kind of hell, 

or the hell of illness, 

or of injury

or death 

or the one hundred other kinds of hell 

that exist in life.) 

I'm talking about the kind of personal hell we go through
when we attempt to do something that we have desired our whole life

and have an unrelenting expectation to internally succeed at.

Lets just say, it certainly isn't the artistic "bliss" that I expected. 

I thought it would be FUN. 

You know... 

“a dream come true" 

kind of feeling…

"following my passion.... 

and doing what I have dreamed of doing my whole life" 

kind of fun.

 Trust me, 

it hasn't felt that way at all.

Now, don't get me wrong, 

there have been some ecstatic moments....

like that sudden and unexpected realization of victory, 

when I can confidently lay down my paint weapons, 

knowing that the battle has ended 

and that today, I have actually won.  

In those moments, 

everything feels right in the world and 

my decision to dedicate my year to painting 

makes sense and feels justified. 

Unfortunately, 

that feeling rarely lasts long enough

to clean the wounds from my last combat

and is usually completely gone 

by the time I start the next painting.

Thankfully...

in this past week, 

something small has shifted. 

 I don't know what has really changed 

or why it has but I do know that 

something feels different. 

Perhaps its simply that I am starting to know my artistic self a little bit better. 

...and for now, 

that is enough for me 

to keep trekking on this journey.