There's an eerie period between finishing one project and starting on the next. I know what work I need to cross off my list this week, but haven't needed to cross it off until today. Friday morning, I woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, and was then enveloped in the horrifying feeling I'd forgotten to do something big. After going over my "to do" list, I realized the terror was just my natural reaction to having space between work time. "Is this...relaxing? Am I on a break?" My cat meowed in response and demanded more food. I took that as a "yes."
I don't run around as constantly as I used to, and I see no glamour in having no down time. Yet, every time I force myself to sit quietly and enjoy my time off, I get queasy. Maybe it's a hangover from working in the service industry since I was 15. I may have taken "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean" a little too much to heart. Maybe it's because I spend too much time scrolling through other artists' posts on social media, and so feel like everyone works harder than I do, is better at their craft than I am, and somehow has a better handle on life than I can hope to achieve in the next 10 years. Maybe I just need to eat more leafy greens. I should do that, regardless.
In other news, someone asked to buy one of my pieces at the Afrofuturism opening at Atomic City, and I immediately realized I'd never handled such a transaction and should learn how to do so. I don't think anyone has ever offered to buy one of my pieces outright; while my anxiety says that's because I make crappy art, my brain knows it's because I don't hang my work anywhere it would make money (i.e. my living room). "Finding more places to exhibit" is going on this year's "goals" list.
Making a "goals" list is going on the "to do" list.