The life of the Working Artist

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A frustrated writer myself, I have at times delved into the world of poetry, sometimes a soul searching excursion helps to put the painting train of thought back on track...I submit here, for your kind perusal my thoughts, hastily scribbled after my recent fall art show at a local mall.

THE LIFE OF THE WORKING ARTIST.

hello again he said to me,
mellowed now, a kinder he
with understanding for my plight
to place the paintings within sight
A store you need, not like this
Last year, he bellowed with a hiss
we had the spot, the place, the store
for 15 years, a few years more
The market changed, the people too
So what's an artist supposed to do
the galleries, one by one
they are now closed, they had their run
Rents they soared, folks lost their cash
economies failed, world markets crashed
but as for me I make my life
thru painting, teaching, not in strife
I must make art, paint and emote
And people buy, though far remote
They sold large homes, have fewer walls
we still sell gifts, get many calls
Adapt I must, and you must to
In life things change, they always do
So we must change, if we want sales
give customers their wants, still prevails
thus twice a season, I drag my chairs
And frames, and paintings, take I my wares
Naked I, out in that mall,
Vulnerable, visible, a thorn to all
they want the largest, cannot pay
In anger, arguing , they walk away
now I sell small, and make them smile
Take a few bucks off, linger they awhile
We share our lives, in that brief time
They own my work, it is sublime
To think that in these heartfelt years
so many folks were brought to tears
with anniversary, birthday gifts
my patrons now, I see the shifts
Now home I am, recoup, rethink
I gave out cards, with folks I link
Commissions now I have to paint
My large ideas, they have to wait
While though creative,' I will always be
Practical, reasonable, that's also me
They tell you colors, subjects they need
And to their words, I so must heed
This week, I cook, I clean, I draw
I've shared with you the things I saw
It's still out there, the artist's dream
Though tarnished now, not so clean
We still must do what we do best
Much more to paint...before we rest.
I leave you with these words of love
The universe approves from up above
We have been gifted, need to create
Sharing ourselves, our own lives often wait
To put on canvas, ourselves, our dreams
I have made sacrifices, gone to extremes
The fire within still burns so strong
Does fame await?..it's been so long..
But paint I must, and paint I will
this artist's life, I must fulfill...

carole spandau..Nov 1, 2010