Do all artists have this challenge?
What a week!
As most of you know, preparing for an exhibition is a lot of work. There's framing, and transporting the work, and discussing pricing, and prepping web pages and writing emails... the list goes on and there's never enough time.
As a little bit of added pressure, my builder cut through my internet cable with hs digger, leaving me trying to manage with spotty wi-fi from my phone!
That said, it all got done and the opening was a lovely success. I met all sorts of people who came from all over the world - even as far as Texas, USA and Ottawa, Canada! I was incredibly honoured that people had made the journey and even more honoured when the red dots began to appear.
But I also noticed something else ... lots of people were asking if I was excited, or commenting on how happy I must be. It really gave me pause, because the truth is that I didn't feel particularly happy or particularly excited.
Not because this wasn't lovely - it was!
Not because I wasn't grateful, because I was SO grateful.
No, I think it's because, at heart I am not a very excitable person. I'm actually quite melancholy much of the time. I can always see the positives in any situation, but I can also see all the possible downsides (which gets exhausting!)
Lately I've really enjoyed watching videos of David Hockney and I think it's because he was such a joyous man. No matter how old he was in the videos, there was always a happy light in his eyes as he spoke.
I used to think I should be that way. I used to berate myself and try to change myself. But actually, I've come to think that David was quite unusual. I think most artists lean more towards melancholy than towards happiness. And I think it's because we see and feel more than most people see and feel. We are highly sensitive beings - we have to be in order to do what we do. It's a gift for sure, but also a burden.
We empathise with everyone who is suffering and we can't just shake that off, no matter how distant those people are. We also feel our own emotions very deeply, which means we often struggle to feel simple contentment.
This is not to say artists can't be happy - I feel a deep joy whenever I am creating, but it is a joy that often feels laid over with a kind of sadness I find impossible to put into words. Maybe it's the sadness of knowing this won't go on forever - that I won't always be painting or drawing; that I am reaching my later years.
As artists we see and experience the world very differently from other people and I have decided to stop fighting that and to simply accept it. At birth, I was given a desire to make art - it is a gift and one I am eternally grateful for. But it comes with burdens too and that's OK.
I still love to listen to David Hockney and to see that lovely excitement in his eyes, but I have decided to also accept myself exactly as I am, and to know that my own more muted personality as just as valid. That deep melancholia is what has inspired my latest work - it is embodied in those paintings of people who are long gone. I couldn't make those if I wasn't exactly the way I am.