Few things panic me more than thinking about how my time is being used. I am sure that I have mentioned before that I am a husband, father, homeowner, full time teacher, and –oh yeah- I try to maintain this little project called an art career. Each of these roles is a significant source of fulfillment, and I care deeply about the relationships involved with every one of them. But, somehow, the label of artist carries with it a vague and persistent pressure that can raise my level of antsyness about being substandard faster than almost anything else that I care about. You see, I have this intuitive, built-in meter, clamped securely to my guts, that measures whether I am spending “enough” time in the studio. I imagine it to look like a game show pie graph with a pivoting arrow, and with different colored wedges, each labeled with descriptive phrases like, “real artist”, and “hobbyist”, and “give it up looser!” At the end of each week, it is my goal to keep this meter happily buzzing in a safe zone that will make me feel that the world is still full of possibility, and that my day-to-day busyness really can add up to something significant.
But, apparently, thinking about how my time is being used is different than analyzing how my time is being used. Recently, I was lamenting to my very supportive wife about my obligations, and I stated that if I just had about 30 hours of studio time available every week, then I would finally be able to move forward with my work the way I needed to. She responded with a patient nod. So, to drive home my dilemma, I turned to a tool I rarely use: actual math. First, I started calculating amounts to explain how my time disappears; teaching= about 45 hours per week, sleep= 56 hours per week, family time/making dinner/cleaning up on weekdays= about 20 hours, hanging out with the in-laws on Sunday= about 8 hours, getting ready for work on weekdays= about 5 hours, getting everyone ready for church and attending church every week= about 3 hours, and random home maintenance projects= about 3 hours per week. Then, with self pity, I subtracted these amounts from the 168 hours that make up a week. So, I felt a little sheepish to see that I was left with 28 hours per week (also known as about 30 hours per week).
I shared this story with a fellow artist a few days later, and he told me that it reminded him of buying a lottery ticket. “You know, for a few minutes I can fantasize about what I would do with the money if I won. But then, when I really think about it, I would probably just spend the money on the same things I always spend money on. Those are the things I care about.” I then had to admit to him that when I am given extra time- during the summer months, or during our recent snow days for example- that I really struggle to get even a little studio time in. Those are the days when it feels less urgent to wake up early and get out of bed (10 hours= sleep + “make up” sleep). Free time also creates a vacuum that sucks in unexpected projects (take apart the dishwasher+ discovering I am not an appliance technician= 2 hours). Without the perspective of a demanding schedule, I become overly ambitious, and maybe a tiny bit too obsessed, with rather meaningless tasks (defeat the boss man on old super Nintendo Street Fighter game= 2 hours). Strangely, this reminds me of the lottery too. It reminds me of every horrible story you have ever head about some poor chump who wins millions of dollars, only to squander it pointlessly on junk they never really needed.
So, in a more positive equation, here is my current math problem; less whining+ more work+ a little bit of accounting+ giving myself some credit+ being grateful for what I have> being a loser.
Please view my work at kevinpkellyart.artspan.com
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