…but they’ll die a commercial executive.
I was born to be a singer
La la la la la.
Not me. I sound like a monotone robot with no autotune when sing.
The phrase “I was born to be a singer” stood out to me during a work presentation last year. I say presentation, it was a 10-minute talk called “Knowing me, knowing you” (AHA!) Where new employees create a ‘PowerPoint’ about their lives, including how they speak 18 languages, were gold medallists, the mindblowing experiences they had whilst travelling, and how much they love their dogs.
I felt a tinge of sadness when I heard the person exclaim “I was born to be a singer” proudly. For the simple fact that this person was at a tech company, with a fancy executive title, and not singing for a living.
Why isn’t she singing for a living?
Well, I don’t know. I could ask, but I can’t be bothered. So, I’ll guess…
Societal pressure? Bills to pay? A family to take care of? Job security? Can’t be arsed with touring or the late nights?
Probably all of the above. Or maybe none of the above, they might really want to work here and sing as a hobby. That’s none of my business. (Come to think of it, someone else who works here was a professional singer and did tours for several years. But she is now working the semi-corp life).
I’m not judging, as I too am working full time here, with a fancy executive title, and not getting paid lots of money for my art, nor showing my work in The Tate Modern.
This is all about projection, not the person who said “I was born to be a singer”.
Why am I not a well-paid, professional artist for a living?
That’s the issue.
I feel like a broken record saying this, and you might be bored of it too. But it’s ok, this is what this Substack is about, my journey towards being a professionally recognised artist who doesn’t have to pay for exhibitions, curators seek me out.
Being unwell recently has been a bit of a blessing in disguise, as I’ve not been able to go to the studio, so I’m off work convalescing and I still feel the urge to do something towards my art career.
An art mentor told me a simple way to find out if art galleries accept new artists is to call them and simply say “Hello, do you view the work of new artists?” if they say yes, you say “Do you have a submission process, please?”. As much as I am a lot less shy these days, I thought it would be more practical to send emails, so I’ve been sending emails to galleries and have started getting replies, and rejections. They hurt at first, but then I realised that I just had to keep going. It’s not personal, but my mind sometimes thinks that they are personal and I have an emotional reaction.
If you think about it, why did I feel like it was personal? I was reflecting on this the other day, and perhaps part of it is that art is something so personal and close to me, tangled up in childhood feelings of wanting to be liked. However, I feel more resilient after getting some ‘rejections’ and will keep on contacting galleries and the perfect match will occur! They’ve got to fit in with me too.
So complete with thicker skin, I carry on. I’ll leave you a phrase that I came across recently called “Active faith” I stole it from Florence Scovel Shinn who was an American artist who became a new thought leader over 100 years ago. She said…
“Man must prepare for the thing he has asked for when there isn’t the slightest sign of it in sight.”
Florence Scovel Shinn
Prepare is the keyword. Most artists enjoy the creation of art above anything else, but it’s highly unlikely a gallery will come knocking at your door to represent you. My active faith is that “the perfect gallery will show up” and I will contact as many galleries as possible. You never know, one gallery might not like my work but they could chat to a friend who owns another gallery who does. I’m trying my best to be open to unseen possibilities.
Love to you.
SLART