Monday, October 28, 2013

Flock of Doves, and "Why I think I’m less of a Deadbeat Since Quitting My Biology Career to be a Full Time Artist"



First off, here's a flock of stoneware Christmas ornament doves I’ve been working on.  They're bigger than the little doves I used to make, but I've carved them out a lot so I hope they'll be reasonably light.  These doves are still "greenware" (unfired clay) and eventually will all get bisque fired then dunked in Chun White cone 6 glaze.




 A couple of the doves looked like they wanted to be carved onto, so I did.






On to today’s other topic.  “Why I think I’m less of a deadbeat since quitting my biology career to be a full time artist”


This post is dedicated to all my biology friends who may have thought I was crazy for leaving my job to follow my dreams.


After my last post I did some thinking about what has held me back from making a living as an artist, and I realized that I have perhaps saddled myself with some unnecessary guilt.


I did some googling and found this article, reading it and all the comments below made me feel like I’m not alone.  It's a good read!  And so are the reader responses.




Perhaps it is the public education system which trains small children to believe that they should be marching off to work inside most of the week with limited breaks to be a functional citizen. 

I know when I made the decision to quit my full time job, and move to Regina and start Art School with the plan of following my bliss all day, I felt like I was swimming against a giant tide.    
A giant tide of people with “real” jobs.


I remember, after a couple of years, going back home to Richmond and my brother and I went to an open house across the street from our mom’s house.  It was a new development in a neighbourhood where old houses on giant old building lots with rich, fertile soil are getting mowed down for condos. 

The  sales agent asked me what I do and I said “I’m an artist”.   

It took me ages to be able to identify myself as this, rather than say “well I used to be a biologist”.  

 I felt proud of myself for saying it.  "I'm an artist".  Outloud, to a stranger.  

But, when I said "I'm an artist.", my brother, a mechanic, snickered.  

 No big deal. Of course he snickered, because I think there’s a public perception that being an ‘artist’ isn’t a real job.  

Rather, I suspect that many people could perhaps view artists as deadbeat mooches. 

It turns out that I'm not making this idea up; the idea that the public would regard a career in science as more worthy than an art career.  There’s even a report done by Princeton University that shows only 27% of those surveyed think that artists contribute a lot to the general good of society, and 26% think artists contribute little or nothing. Note we’re well below scientists but just a photo-finish ahead of politicians (whew).  Also note this survey was done in the states, I wonder if results would differ in other countries.

 

 


Perhaps this is the root of some of my guilt for choosing to move away from my friends and family to start a new life someplace where I have a chance of affording to do what I want all day.


But here’s the thing! 

The other day I had a giant “A-Ha” moment that would make Oprah proud. 

I realized that by leaving my job I was allowing myself to try to live an authentic life, a life where my main objective is to follow my bliss.  To use my talents in service to others.  To work at what I truly love.  In the words of Bob Marley to "emancipate [myself] from mental slavery".   


What if everyone in the world dropped what they were doing and made the effort to align with that which they knew, deep down, they really wanted to do, what they knew they really should be doing.  Wouldn’t that be interesting.
 

The other part of my “A-Ha” moment came from me reflecting back on my biology career.   

Did I really accomplish anything?  

I certainly blew through tens of thousands of tax dollars.  I’m good at academics, so I won a big scholarship that paid for my entire Master’s degree.  My Master’s research also came from tax money, a great big pile of tax money, which I spent on counting birds, identifying plants, measuring sagebrush and coming up with some conclusions that would possibly be obvious to anyone spending thoughtful time out in nature watching what the various birds I  looked at were up to.  


Next I got some jobs.  And looking back on these jobs, just the other day, during my "A-Ha moment",  I finally thought to “follow the money” and think about where my paycheque was actually coming from.   

For example, I worked as a fisheries observer on off shore trawl boats for a couple of years in BC.  It paid me well, but I think I only just clued in that the fishermen whose boat I was on would have to pay the consulting company $300/day or so.  No wonder the fishermen were pissed off about the observer program, there were trips where the fish observer would make more than members of the crew.  Ironically, more fish would have to be caught to fund me, and pay the consulting company fees.


And what good did it do anyhow? Small fishing boats are being replaced by giants ships that require way fewer crew, changing the sustainability of coastal fishing communities.   And as long as there are big profits to be made by the corporations responsible for these ships, aren’t we just going to fish everything until extinction anyhow?


Same goes for some contract work I did for a forestry company. I couldn’t help but get the impression that some of the work I was part of was part of some giant rubberstamping process and that industry would largely end up doing what it would have done in the first place.  

As with the fish that were caught to pay for me to be a fish observer, I realized that trees were possibly cut to pay me to have my cushy biology contract.  Possibly beautiful, huge, old growth trees.

Eeek.


By 2005 I felt like it’d be easy enough for me to be a biologist, have a comfortable life, getting paid to go on hikes, gather data, getting flown to meetings and eating muffins, attending conferences, writing this report or that, all on the public dime, while outside the world seemed to be largely going to hell in a hand basket with big corporations calling all the real important shots. 


I envied my coworkers who seemed cheerful to go to work every day.  Sometimes I wonder what if I'd have gone on antidepressants or found some other sort of way to make my job bearable.  Maybe I’d have stayed in Vancouver, maybe I’d have married another yuppie and we’d have a condo in Whistler to go on weekend ski trips to.  I’d still be playing ultimate frisbee, going for Friday evening drinks, cramming all my fun into evenings, weekends and vacations…should I have tried harder for that life?

Nah.
 
Fast forward to 2013 and I have to say I love every square inch of our 10 acres of riverfront. At least I can say that every frog, snake and bird on this property has a healthy home, and my non-yuppie husband and I do what we can to keep it that way.  As my art career grows I hope to earn enough to buy more acres of riverfront to leave for the critters.   

And I can say I love every minute in my studio where I try to sculpt things that I love, and hoping other will love them too.  I have to say I work way harder since becoming an artist, longer hours anyhow, if I was to count the hours where I was actually productive.  Being a biologist never pulled me to my work in the middle of the night the way my studio can. Instead of watching the clock and working for the weekend, now my time is spent realizing creative ideas and looking for the intersection between what I love to do, and what people need and want.

And, ironically, I think I live lighter on the earth.

No more driving my car to my conservation biology job and stopping for a Macdonald’s McGriddle on the way (I did this a few times near the end).  Now I have the time and space to grow my own vegetables and cook most things from scratch.  Trips to town to buy things are infrequent, and I no longer feel the need to numb myself after work with booze or shopping.  So, inadvertently, I think all this makes me a better ‘conservation biologist’ if I’m still allowed to claim that identity. 

And I'm not out to bash biology.  Rather, I think there are many scientists doing important work, and hopefully these are the people who are following their dreams. I'm grateful for all the biologists who work to protect the environment, and all the plants and animals we share the earth with.  It just wasn't right for me, and the best thing I could have done for society, I think, was to go off and figure out who my authentic self is, and start living that life instead.

So there you have it.  I refuse to feel guilty anymore about being an artist! I can't help it if I want to sculpt all the time.  Back to the studio!

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