Seven years ago I was a young bride, idealistic and ready to take on life as an adventure with my new partner. Whether you believe that the human body renews itself every seven years or not, my life seems to have circled around and so I ruminate.
Attempting to sell my artistic soul, I had met my husband at a holiday arts and crafts fair December eight years ago. I didn’t make much money, just enough to cover expenses. It took me quite a few years to realize that my art career wasn’t going to pay the bills the way I was doing it.
My first attempt at making a living as an artist started in Japan right after college. I quit my day job teaching English, lost the apartment attached to my job, and spent my nights at a dear friends’ house and days sitting on a park bench attempting to peddle my creative wares.
There were a couple of park regulars, mainly little old men, who befriended me despite the language barrier. They brought me cold drinks on hot days; gave me pictures they had drawn of exotic geishas; and taught me how to use colored pencils like a real artist, not a 6-year old – although hello kitty colored pencils were presented to me as a gift. I will always remember cross-hatching.
Each day I made enough money selling small prints and hand drawn postcards to buy myself something to eat at the convenience store – not talking sushi here – and I eventually came to the conclusion that I would be more successful if I could communicate with my potential buyers. Back home to the States and to the English language I went.
Three years later, this holiday arts and crafts fair was my first “legitimate” – as opposed to squatting in parks or in downtown shopping areas - attempt at selling my art.
I was wearing a red sweater the day I met my husband. I know this only because this is what he remembers. Apparently red sweaters catch the eyes of young men. I was wearing a red sweater because it was a holiday event.
He told me that he was an artist too and that “we should collaborate sometime”. I didn’t know exactly what he had in mind, but he bought some of my art so I figured he couldn’t be that bad. The second day of the event he came back to visit and pulled a large glass ball from his pocket.
At the time I didn’t know anything about art glass or marbles (glass balls). Now I know who Dale Chihuly and Josh Simpson are and can try to explain how it is exactly that my husband makes these fantastic dichroic vortex marbles, just in case you were interested.
He was interested in me. Whether it was the sweater or my art, or both, I came away from that art fair not a rich woman in the pockets, but a wealthy one in the heart.
And now, seven years of our married journey has passed. The reality of life has kicked my idealistic ass and the holiday craft fair season has got me thinking about my art, my career, and my dreams. It’s time to create the next seven year path.
Attempting to sell my artistic soul, I had met my husband at a holiday arts and crafts fair December eight years ago. I didn’t make much money, just enough to cover expenses. It took me quite a few years to realize that my art career wasn’t going to pay the bills the way I was doing it.
My first attempt at making a living as an artist started in Japan right after college. I quit my day job teaching English, lost the apartment attached to my job, and spent my nights at a dear friends’ house and days sitting on a park bench attempting to peddle my creative wares.
There were a couple of park regulars, mainly little old men, who befriended me despite the language barrier. They brought me cold drinks on hot days; gave me pictures they had drawn of exotic geishas; and taught me how to use colored pencils like a real artist, not a 6-year old – although hello kitty colored pencils were presented to me as a gift. I will always remember cross-hatching.
Each day I made enough money selling small prints and hand drawn postcards to buy myself something to eat at the convenience store – not talking sushi here – and I eventually came to the conclusion that I would be more successful if I could communicate with my potential buyers. Back home to the States and to the English language I went.
Three years later, this holiday arts and crafts fair was my first “legitimate” – as opposed to squatting in parks or in downtown shopping areas - attempt at selling my art.
I was wearing a red sweater the day I met my husband. I know this only because this is what he remembers. Apparently red sweaters catch the eyes of young men. I was wearing a red sweater because it was a holiday event.
He told me that he was an artist too and that “we should collaborate sometime”. I didn’t know exactly what he had in mind, but he bought some of my art so I figured he couldn’t be that bad. The second day of the event he came back to visit and pulled a large glass ball from his pocket.
At the time I didn’t know anything about art glass or marbles (glass balls). Now I know who Dale Chihuly and Josh Simpson are and can try to explain how it is exactly that my husband makes these fantastic dichroic vortex marbles, just in case you were interested.
He was interested in me. Whether it was the sweater or my art, or both, I came away from that art fair not a rich woman in the pockets, but a wealthy one in the heart.
And now, seven years of our married journey has passed. The reality of life has kicked my idealistic ass and the holiday craft fair season has got me thinking about my art, my career, and my dreams. It’s time to create the next seven year path.
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