As I type this I am sitting on the corner of P & 14th streets, at about 2am, like some kind of iPhone fanatic waiting for a new release. Except I’m waiting in line for an apartment- a studio apartment at that. I feel like a crazy person just typing this because I’m not one for discomfort, especially late at night, in the cold with no bed. Just the fact that I can barely sit comfortably, let alone sleep, is saying enough. As a child I was a burden to my young 30-something parents because I was the one crying all night until we got home- nothing is like MY bed. To this day I avoid sleeping in other beds or couches if I am within 50 minutes of my bed. I have literally driven home from San Francisco at 4am because I would rather sleep in my own bed than share a room with my own snoring mother. That my friends, is dedication.
I’m waiting in line to turn in my application for the “Warehouse Artist Lofts” which are a newly renovated and built apartment complex dedicated solely for artists living and working in Sacramento. I need this apartment. I NEED this. Hours before my infamous car accident I pledged to myself to start to really truly work towards my artistic goals. I was set to collaborate with my friend and her jewelry designs, I was constantly bugging my other artist friend to work more on her paintings so we could do a fiber print and acrylic mixed media piece together. I was collecting my many rolls of shot film I’ve been hoarding for the past 3 months and setting developing appointments at my local darkroom. This accident has taken a chunk out of my bank account and life for a solid month or two now and yesterday, as I opened an outrageously priced ticket issued from my car accident, I decided something really big- for me at least.
I decided this: I am not going to let this financial setback pigeonhole me back into a soul sucking “pay the bills” type of job. I am done settling for less. I am done not living up to my potential as not just an artist, but a human. For the sake of my own soul and happiness, I need to fulfill my dream as much as possible. Even if it bankrupts me, I have to pursue this as far as I possibly can otherwise I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I never really tried. Success is scary, especially for me. I got a small taste of it in 2011 when I was published, quoted by the Wall Street Journal, and had my first show- and that was only half-assing it. I want to see what happens when I give this thing my full attention, 100%, all my ass. I need to see what I am capable of as an artist.
That is why I’m here- in 40 degree weather, sitting on concrete, with strangers, for the next 6 hours. These lofts have the potential to transform not only me but my art. I want to live a fully inspired life, surrounded by art 24/7, living and working among other people who understand the struggle that is living a creative life. I want to experience what it feels like to live in a creative bubble, be an artist, live like an artist instead of living like a girl who works on the weekends so she can do art during the week. I have a lot of wants, but really I need this. This would totally catapult my work into the next level. From talking about it, to BEING about it.