I'd love to claim that yes, I do paint every day, and tell you that my powers of concentration are unsurpassed. I'd like to drivel on about discipline. "How does she do it?" you'd ask, awed. I'd gloat, and yeah, pretty much be insufferable.
But now, my friends, I will pass along a secret. The Successful Artist business model is based on one thing alone: Living within your means.
In other words, sometimes the noble paint brush must acquiesce to the noble duty of manual labor. Being your own plumber, landscaper, construction dude, and overall caretaker will save you gazillions. Gazillions that you should reinvest in art supplies and a sweet road trip.
I offer the following...
Exhibit B: Pickax vs. paintbrush. Occasionally, it's necessary to dig a ditch. A live electrical line had lain across the path for about 2 months. Despite the usual hoofing between cabins and the rain, no one got electrocuted. We dug a deep trench, which posed new dangers, and there was a certain amount of bickering over who was more adversely affected by the ordeal. So, in a neighborly fashion, we stubbornly left it open for a while, but no one fell in. Cheated death again! Back to the easel...
Exhibit C: Snow. While it's true that artists demand consistent studio light, 7 feet of snow blockading the windows for an entire winter is not desirable. The cats get crabby ~ how can they keep surveillance? Neither backhoes nor a burly manservant named Thor are justifiable expenses, so I shovel out by hand.
Exhibit D: More snow. Okay, so I ignored the warning signs, but I was at the easel, enrapt with an Old World donkey whom I'd met in Marrakesh, and as far as I was concerned, I was in Marrakesh. When 20 tons of snow slid from my roof, it felt like a magnitude 8 earthquake hit the cabin. The cats levitated and scattered in all directions. Oblivious to the ramifications, I continued painting. When the temperature plummeted later, I couldn't keep the stove lit. Upon inspection, I discovered this:
Huh... That's a new one. I called for a meeting of the minds. The neighbors waded around getting snow in their boots, agreeing that it sucked to be me.
Had this been an all inclusive resort, the maintenance guys would've appeared in an official golf cart, wearing polo shirts. They would've placed warm towels on my aching forehead and rubbed my shoulders. With pleasing accents, they'd have consoled the cats. I'd have had heat within the hour. This was not the case, mainly because this isn't an all inclusive resort. Just think how much I've saved in HOA fees!
Head throbbing, I stomped inside and set up space heaters. Back to the easel...
A few days later, we were all feeling the love:
Total expenses? BF deal on sheet metal, 2 bottles of vino, and 1 big gratitude dinner of elk stew for the neighbors. A wise investment indeed.
Exhibit E: Another tip: Give up that pricey membership at the club! Get your arse behind a lawnmower, a wheelbarrow, a shovel or rake. Trust me, the fresh air and sunshine will do you good. Consider it free cross training.
Just think of the possibilities ~ Be an artist, create a sense of well rounded fulfillment in your life, AND save eleventy million dollars a year! Livin' the dream, baby, that's what it's all about.
(Please stay tuned for my next scintillating installment, which will actually include PAINTING. In the meantime, my friends, keep those brushes squiggling.)