I received notification of my first museum show, which will open in January of 2014. As I have yet to sign the contract, I will hold back the museum's name, but it is a regional art museum in SC. This came at one of those moments when the world seemed black and despair was taking hold of me in a profound way. The road is long. It's not for the faint at heart and even the strong face down the demons of doubt and hopelessness from time to time.
The art world is not a meritocracy. You don't get points for talent or even effort, and my trips to NYC have shown me that bullshit hangs on walls with red dots next it just as often (seemingly more so) than the kick-ass work that belongs there. There are countless painters out there that are amazing who will never see "success" on any grand scale. It gets demoralizing if one lets it.
For my part, I have stayed my course. I've worked alone and in obscurity for a very long time. At one point or another every friend or family member in my life has politely discouraged me from continuing along this path; for my own good, of course. I appreciate it. We don't like to see people we love in pain, struggling toward a seemingly unattainable goal. But I have always believed in myself absolutely. Even in my lowest, I have never given up on my work. I've always found a way.
On the day my daughters were born I made a promise to myself. It was one of those silent oaths we take in this life that is strictly between ourselves and our Source; that I would stay the course and prove to them by example that they can achieve their dreams. They don't come easy. They may even come at great cost, but they can be reached if they supremely believe in themselves and never let anyone (even those closest to them) discourage them. So when I walk into that museum next year with my daughters by my side, I will feel that I have fulfilled a sacred oath and that I have done something as a father that is meaningful and lasting.
As I've told my painter friends over many beers and tears, I have only ever sought greatness. Longevity, not fame, is what is important to me. I want to be a great painter, even if my audience is yet unborn. I value that more than all glossy magazine covers and art fair headlining that may or may never come.
This is a moment.
And tonight I will go back into the studio, roll up my sleeves, and do the work.
No comments:
Post a Comment