Great job, artist. Now stop making art.
When I was twenty-six, I started a dance program at a high school, a half-time job that was a perfect complement to running my dance company. I lovedthose goddamn kids. Then something happened that happens to many artists: I did it well. The program thrived. Gradually and quietly, it became an overwhelming full-time job.
I was good at building that dance program because I was an artist, invested in the power of dance, committed to a daily practice. The high school, grateful for the skills of a working artist, would happily consume all of my time and prevent me from being a working artist.
another dance with my fab high school students
The world is hungry for artists' skills.
Because we are brilliant planners, designers, project managers, and team builders, we often get hired to imagine, build, and run complex ventures.
The world loves competent artists and will quickly absorb us entirely into teaching or organizing or managing.
I see this with artists who teach in universities: We want you teaching our students because you are a brilliant artist with a powerful practice. Now stop that powerful practice and spend your time in meetings.
A dear artist friend accepted a full-time position in a Big Art Structure, curating and lifting up the work of other artists. She knew the job would squeeze her artistic life. So we wrote this note to her colleagues, her family, and herself, a quiet reminder she could pin to the wall of her artist studio and her curator office. You can download it here.
