It doesn’t take much to give me a sense of purpose. I can create one all by myself complete with daily and weekly activity schedules.
It’s giving up such a purpose that’s difficult. I’ve been writing an art blog, for example, for more than eight years. Over that period I wrote new entries from 4 to 7 times a week—creating a new schedule for myself every so often.
Writing this blog requires that I have something to write about—either a painting or drawing that I’m working on, or someone else’s art. If I write about my own, I have to take photos of it during the process. If I write about another artist, I have to research the art and obtain photos of their work after first getting permission to write about them.
Thus I created a purpose and schedule for myself—painting, drawing, photographing, researching and writing—that kept me busy every day of the week.
It was a regular routine that got me out of bed in the morning and made me feel productive. Not a bad gig.
Over the past year, however, I began to feel constrained and tied down by this routine. I began to question its actual worth as well.
Sure, I heard from a lot of artists who read my blogs, and that was nice, but the writing had become routine and obligatory—not satisfying. And I doubted the blogs actually helped me to sell any art.
Life is short and I know that much more viscerally now since Adrian died. The time I have left is precious.
When I was in Florida visiting my sister recently, I used her as a sounding board and discovered that I no longer wanted to write art blogs. And when I got home, I stopped writing them. Just like that.
It feels good.
I still want to paint, but I feel freer in the studio now because I don’t have to think about what I will write or to bother taking a photograph of a painting’s progress toward completion.
And since I don’t have to share my creation with the online world, I can do any damn thing I feel like in the studio.
Not having an art blog to write every day means I can also take a walk in the morning if I feel like it. There is no schedule.
In the past I never allowed myself time off until I’d finished my daily work routine.
A job that actually paid me every week could not have induced me to work harder.
A pelican on the fishing pier at Juno Beach.
