"I've got something to say!"
Often, we forget our friends in service industry jobs are people too. Not that they're carbon based life forms with thumbs and the evolutionary ability to stand up-right- actually conscious, flawed, biased, loving people. It's natural to see them as their jobs and uniforms. "Martha makes me coffee, Jim bags my groceries." I believe, for the purpose of a picture- for the purpose of art itself, there must be a connection between artist and subject. So, for my part, this blog will serve as an extended hand. For those reading, I hope to get to know you as personally as you will get to know me.
It's March and I'm sitting in a room filled with books, equipment, and the sound of my partner snoring- a steady reminder that somewhere within the clutter of work and school there is a bed waiting for me. I live in a house in east Austin, just far enough from the city to forget it's just over the hills. The Colorado river lies just beyond my back gate waiting to be explored.
I moved here in January with my partner, Sam. He'd just been accepted to St. Edwards, and I to the Art Institute. We met twelve months ago as most busy people do- online and via proxy. We bonded over a mutual interest in 60's and 70's jazz musicians, and an avid disinterest in 80's hard rock. He was, and still is, an aspiring jazz pianist. Right now, sitting on his solid white Yamaha in a corner of our room are two bound collections of sheet music- Cannonball Adderely (in the key of C) and Bach. Although we're both artist, we soon discovered how different our fields are, and where our strengths lie. For instance, where he was strong on the auditory front, with an innate ability to hear the slightest change in pitch, I was strongest visually with things like light, color and pattern. I knew six months in I would have followed him across the country. Luckily, I only had to move three hundred miles.
I gave up somethings to be here- nothing that can't be regained, but somethings that'll be missed for now. I have a dog, Skipper, that currently sleeps outside of my old room at my mother's house. He's a sweet heart, though easily agitated. We share the often amusing affliction of social anxiety which, I think, is why we're both so fond of the seclusion of wilderness. I also left my motorcycles, an Aprilla and a Yamaha- which, to be fair, doesn't run yet. I never meant to become a garage junkie, but working on my Yamaha was fun, almost cathartic. Perhaps it's just the artist in me, constantly seeking a creative outlet.
The thing I'm missing the most right now is my 200 square feet home office. Now I'm renting a room about half that size in a home shared with 4 other tenants. As hectic as it sounds, it's quite nice, actually. I was worried about finding new friends, after spending ten years carefully curating my last collection of beautiful misfits, but these dudes couldn't have been more welcoming. Still, it can be a bit cramped in my room with all of my equipment, and my partners piano, and our increasingly eclectic bookshelf filled with everything from Music theory to Color fundamentals, the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu to an anthology of Grateful Dead sheet music.
The last year has been about finding happiness- and I've found pretty good ground work for that. My goal for the next six months is to find focus within my hectic schedule and myself. I'd also like to evolve my art and work more with fashion and nude subjects. I've found an immense love of the way clothing and the body interact together, as well as separately. Lastly, I'd like to travel more. March 27th will mark my first trip to Chicago, 28 hours via train. While there, I hope to get a feel for the fashion and culture of the city.
Anyone else still adjusting to a new city? Let me know in the comments.