Artist, over 50, fat, single, and covered in cat hair

That is the description of who I am. The order can change from day to day, or even hour by hour. But no matter how you slice it that me.

Over 50, that is a fact, some days I feel as though I am over 70. I am tired, some days so tired that my body just won’t work. Everything aches and I just want to call it quits. But some how I get up an out of bed and go to work. (not painting, but the job that pays the rent. )

Fat, well yeah… or how I like to describe it in this politically correct world: Horizontally Challenged.

Single, no explanation needed.

Covered in cat hair, with the amount cat hair that finds itself on my person, you would think that I am a crazy cat lady with about 20 cats. But all that fur comes from one cat, Jorge. He’s named after the legendary NY Yankee catcher Jorge Posada. Yes we are both Yankee fans. My Jorge is also a frequent subject of my art.

One of my Jorge protraits

Artist, well that is more difficult. I truly want to consider myself an artist but I always wonder if I have the right to. There are times when the art just seems to happen, every stoke of the brush is the right one, the colors come alive on the canvas and the piece seems to be alive. Those are the times I feel like an artist.

Then there are the times (and this is more of the norm) when every brush stroke is an effort and nothing seems to go right, and it’s a painful process. These are the times I question every pigment I choose, every brushstroke that is applied to the canvas. I stare at the canvas and wonder what am I doing.

It’s those times I need to take a step back and remember why I do this, I do it to put myself out there, and when I am creating art there is nothing else. All I am and all I ever hoped to be, is poured in to the piece I am creating. All the good and bad, that is within me is some where in that piece of art. All the happiness and sorrow is in every brushstroke and color. All the other bullshit, paying bills, the stress of the everyday job, the long commute, all of it is gone for those few hours that I sit and paint.

When my head is clear and I focus on what I am doing, it is at that point I wish I had more time to paint, I have a full time job and a long commute, so by the time I get home I’m exhausted. The weekend is my creation time. I always make time on the weekends. I have to…

So the question still remains: Am I an artist?

I’d like to this so!


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