What Keeps Me Going on the Artistic Career Path
Many times, in past years, I’ve been asked what led me to choose a freelance career. After all, it’s a struggle to make ends meet, at times. The idea of becoming successful is a far off dream and the concept of always making ends meet is hit or miss. Yes, it has been better, in the past two years, but it remains feast or famine and never before has the colloquialism “starving artist” been more poignant.
So why keep at it? Why pour so much energy into something that has, to date, not provided a steady income nor stable living conditions? Why strive to get by on any little job that comes along; most paying very little? Why not go back to that 9 to 5 job?
My short answer is that this is what I want to do. It’s my dream job and I want to make it work. But there’s more to it, than that. My mother tells me that, the first time I started to draw, I was about 2 years old. I have drawn every day of my life. I can't remember ever wanting to be anything, other, than an artist. In school, I was the “weird artist girl”; a sketchbook always in my hands. I drew in the margins of my math notes; I even drew on test papers. Art has always been my entire life and is one of the defining aspects of who I am. A career as an artist is not only the logical culmination of my life; it is what I need to do to truly live. Even if it means sometimes failing, I will never want anything other than to create for a living.
I'd mentioned struggles, earlier. Many of them are of the type that a lot of people deal with. Financial ups and downs, personal losses, changes in my living situation, to pinpoint a few. Some, though, are particularly affecting. In the past decade, I've worked as a professional graphic designer at a giftware company in Anchorage, Alaska. Valentine's Day, 2011, I received a phone call from my doctor. I had cancer. There isn't anything comparable to news like that, what it does to your soul, save getting the news that a parent, sibling, or child has died. I had an uncontrollable and visceral reaction; deep terror and grief and the knowledge that this wasn't anything I could hide from. In later months, after my surgery and during those long and painful hours of chemotherapy, I questioned the point of my life, over and over. Why? Why did I have the gift of artistic talent? Why was I trying so hard if there was, ultimately, no point to any of it? What was I doing, with my life, anyhow? If I died, from this, what would anyone remember me for? A handful of coffee mugs? A clutch of keychains? Some t-shirt with a moose or fish screen printed across it? Those things may have been designed by me but they weren't “me”. I had to make a new start.
After my recovery, I resigned from my position at Arctic Circle. With the help of my family, I packed up my truck with everything I owned, loaded up my dog, and started on the 3,000 mile journey back home to Minnesota. Even that transition was filled with tribulation. An overloaded trailer led to 7 blown tires as well as a 3 foot wide hole burned right through the floor from the combination of tire friction and sparks. The constant repairs added many days to our travel; stripping away any enjoyment of the journey through such beautiful country. I still, so clearly, remember one of our rest periods somewhere in Canada. 3am; the pavement spackled with heavy fog; no light save from flickering sodiums that cast everything in a cold blue. Suddenly, there was that sound right out of Russian folklore; the rising howl of wolves! Ahead, just beyond the farthest light, a small pack trotted out onto the road. Maybe 8 or 9 large adults – they made their way into the forest on the other side – melting like ink into the night just as quickly as they'd brashly appeared. Once again, I'd found myself questioning a great many things; not the least of which being the wisdom of choosing that particular spot for a nap.
Upon, finally, arriving home, I had two choices. Get a job; another retail position, most likely, or get started on my career. I chose the brambled path. Thus began months of never knowing when I would see work. Occasional small jobs cropped up, now and then, but it wasn't until I signed up with a budget-minded job site that I began to see steady income. I started, slowly, to make money. However, it was never enough to pull me up past the poverty line. Even so, I started gathering steady clients and, as time passed, I was able to pay bills and even start putting money into savings – a rare thing! Earlier this year, I took another big step and registered my freelance business, Joy Creating, as an LLC.
I've begun to see the value of hope. My dream is still in development. I know I have a ways to go to reach the top. For me, it isn't about becoming wealthy or even famous. More than anything, what I strive for, is to be told that I'm worth it. I need to know that all of the struggle actually means something.
With the Toptal Freelance visual designers Community I see that chance becoming a reality. Unlike any other job site I've explored, this company really wants to give everyone a good chance to succeed. What truly impressed me was that competition with other designers is absent from their site. It isn't about battling for attention but being matched with a client who will benefit, from my skills, the most. Not only is that fantastic for me, as a designer, but for the client as well! A positive experience means the client can count on getting a great product, which will bring them back for more. And, for me, it would mean getting to work with someone ideally matched to my skill-set. I cannot think of a more perfect cooperation.
I can't wait to get to work!
