Art will find a way

I was five when I decided my profession.

I wanted to be a painter. I had books of all sorts of genres of art. I didn’t realize for a LONG TIME that most of these artists were dead. I thought that this was a totally accepted modern profession, to paint. I don’t know who it was that broke the news to me, that you can’t just be a painter. You have to have like, a real job or something.

This was okay with me. I was going to have 2 jobs then. Probably by middle school I had decided on 3 professions I was confident I could do simultaneously. (Doctor, Painter, Lawyer – yeah right.) I realized that money was a crucial part of life, so being a painter was no longer that important.

Needless to say, I still drew, sketched, painted. Not even cynicism can stop that. But I gave up on actually being “just a painter.”

At Otopeni airport, just outside of Bucharest, I had my baggage inspected: I had about 20 kilos of books, some cables, wires, and a painting. The books looked weird on the x-ray scanner, so they decided to open it up. First thing they saw was this painting.

Something weird happened – something that can probably only happen in a country like Romania. Instead of looking through my bags, they spent a good 10 minutes talking about the painting. The said it’s actually a woman’s face, shaped into a body, yadda yadda yadda, comments about sexuality and women and gender roles. I had random people look at my art. And isn’t that what art is about? Strangers connecting over a bunch of color on a canvas?

I might never have a show, or a book, or a collection, but I am a painter. It is my profession. Everything else is going to be a job.

That I’m probably gonna hate.