In an hour or so I'll be stepping out to go to the bank to deposit payment for the booth fee for the Open Market at the Manila Biennale.
Since Monday I've already put myself on full prep mode for the art market because there's a LOT to get done and I am on my own.
On top of that I have dayjob projects that I still have to do to -- although recently this has taken an experimental turn and I am now exploring being the lesser half of a pair (meaning I'm letting go of the master control and instead playing more of a supportive role -- which means I can claim back more hours for the studio. It also means less income but eventually if I'm able to do more studio and shop work, the sales and shops can cover for the difference.)
But right now I am in that tough phase of everything happening all at once. And I'm feeling the fatigue creeping beneath my skin.
Studio work has never been this solid and real -- I literally have projects lined up and all are potential for many good things.
These are just the more immediate ones, those I aim to accomplish in one way or another within the year.
My social media looks like an ideal life but we all know that's only the surface of things. Right now my funds are tight as I go into investment mode for the art market. My daily life is a gamble. My heart is always in a gamble.
I feel like I am perpetually exhausted and I am forever longing for the kind of comfort that has always, always eluded me. Maybe because I'm too unlike what most people would expect. Because I am too risky, difficult, unpredictable, just a little bit too strange and wild. But even wild things would like to be embraced from time to time.
This morning on my wake-up walk I found a song in the forest, caught on a tree as the Blue Heart Boy passed by during the night.
And I took it for a sign. Because this doesn't happen often. My main daily soundtrack is silence (to better hear the whispers of the stones and trees and sky and water), and when music and songs come in and break through they are usually a herald of Something, a message, a clue. When I start making a Playlist that's a significant thing. And when this song came today, small tokens fell onto the blank page -- seeds of words and stories and sketches.