Giving Up On Dreams

I have a dream...A dream that is altruistic and yet somewhat self-fullfilling. It is a dream to live a creative life and be fed by it, a dream to put beauty out into the world and see others enjoy it, a dream to be considered a "somebody" in my chosen profession, so that I can benefit from continuous work. It is a simple dream that I have spent my life pursuing. I write this post with cheeks hot, tears surfacing, blood boiling and a tiny stressor away from a stroke, for I can honestly say with conviction that I have given up on that dream...but not for lack of really trying. 

In this instance, the reason has yet to come to me, but as I look back on the past two years of utter failure, being deceived and betrayed has a great deal to do with it and I am questioning all that is good. I am questioning my faith in the universe and in people. I question the laws of Karma and hope has fled the coup entirely. I wonder what I did wrong and what lesson(s) I need to learn from this. I ask anyone to give me insight as I tell my story.

After investing $100G (factoring interest) into art school, still broke and hopeful, I risked everything I had left and moved to Miami with my husband and partner, Nicholas  to begin a career as an Artist. For the first six years, I kept a day job and let Nicholas toil away, setting up our art studio and getting odd jobs for small creative projects. I worked tireless nights in the studio creating props for movies and TV and commissioning objects that no one else in Miami was capable of fabricating, while still working 9-5 in a desk job in social service, working my way towards eventually quitting my job in 2006 and becoming a full time artist in the studio.

Our 1st Public Art Piece, "Two, If By Sea" 2008- Little Haiti

Things came slowly at first, but we were able to remain solvent as we took any creative build job we could get and networked constantly to get more work. Eventually we were sought after and work was flowing pretty continuously, enough to pay our bills and keep us fed. It was not yet enough to put money into marketing, so I worked constantly to create a social network, become well respected in my community, built my own website and marketed through all free means.

This led to us eventually getting a break and get a commission for our first public art sculpture in 2008, which allowed us to prove that we could take a very small budget and create an amazing artwork that benefits the community. Once that sculpture was installed, we were hired to create several large-scale public art pieces for a local housing company, and we put all of our trust into our Art Representative, who brought us the work, but would not allow us the freedom to market it or publicize it on our own, as the company sought the publicity for the works and still have not listed our proper names on most of the pieces.

Botched Installation of "Together for One Another" 2009

We gave the art rep the benefit of doubt and knew we had to continue accepting work through her, for our options were still limited. Eventually,  she had thrown us under the bus for issues that were the fault of the company and their lack of communication with us, which led to some artworks not being installed or transported properly and damaging the artwork in the process. Through no fault of ours, this reflected badly on us, and we paid the price, as that company will not use us any more. 


That didn't stop us, and we desperately decided to trust our art rep enough to give her another chance. She brought a $150G project to our drawing board from another company and we worked day and night for months with a small stipend and presented an awesome project. Months into the project, a glimmer of hope for us, and it was gone in one quick phone call with a poor excuse; we figured it was likely given to someone else, and we were likely lied to again. Poof! We were foolish to trust them. We stopped looking to her for work, obviously. Betrayal #3. (We should have stopped at 1, honestly.)

We decided, perhaps the gallery game would be the direction for us, as good art representatives are pretty hard to come by. We consulted with a local, well-known gallery owner who was closing up her space, in exchange for doing an odd-job for her. Her odd jobs eventually became so numerous, yet not paying for our time, and we were once again deceived and cheated out of the good pay we earned. In addition, we were basically told by her that we will never "make it" because we are not ass-kissers and would not kiss her wrinkled ass. I felt it wrong for a gallerist to use their Artists as she did and I came to distrust her and the whole Miami gallery scene. We had to get even just to not starve, so we kept the last deposit she gave us for materials for yet another non-paying project, as we rightfully earned that money and quickly ended our relationship with her evil ass and the gallery game for good.  

All the while, we kept our studio running and started to create smaller works, and 

eventually got another "break" in winning a bid for a high-profile public art project for the City of Miami. Again, though, we trusted the city officials to work with us on the project and we again worked hard on the development of the project, investing hundreds of hours and lots of money. We trusted the process would eventually pay us and lead to a productive year. That was last March. We have yet to see any money  or any movement on the behalf of the city, and were also starving at this point.

We figured it might just be the city we are in, as everyone involved in our career had let us down at one point. Even our studio space was no longer a nurturing environment, as they betrayed their own mission to provide affordable workspace. There was no longer a safe space for us to create here in Miami. In December of last year after re-reading my blog post about literally starving,  "One-In-Eight-Americans", we decided to pick up and relocate to Detroit, my home town.

We discussed our plans thoroughly with all of our family and friends in Michigan and we had everyone on board and behind us and happy to see us excited and motivated to start fresh and build anew in a wonderfully creative atmosphere. We spent three months and thousands of dollars on renovating our home, found an agent, and listed the property. We even found several prospective properties in Detroit and began planning our space there. After stressfully showing the house for two more months, we got a purchase contract and the money was on the table. Then, without warning, out of the woodwork, an 86 year-old family member, who co-owned the place with us decided he wanted half of our proceeds, which leaves us with not enough to buy a house, even in Detroit. Surprised, (as who the fuck needs that kind of money at age 86), we stopped everything. 
Betrayal # 6; The last straw.

Our future as Artists

We gave up on our dreams.

Now, I wonder how I am even alive or how I can recover. I feel so angry and so abused by all of this and I wonder how anyone can remain positive or not feel like a victim, as I recover from being betrayed by almost every single person that played a role in our evolving to this point??? Are we even evolved or are we simply used and scarred? And what can we learn from this? One thing is for damn sure...we cannot trust a single person ever again.

On one hand, we have built (on the cheap) a beautiful portfolio of works that are being enjoyed by the communities they grace, and we are grateful for the chances we had to create them, but what about us surviving? Where is our cheese? Where is our next meal? What foul life is this to starve? 

I cannot believe anymore in, "never give up" or "just have faith, and good things will come", or  "Just do good and you will be rewarded." This just does not seem true when one goes hungry. It has been proven to me time and time again to not be true. 

(And by the way, those who betrayed us are doing just fine. So, is it really, "lie, cheat and steal and you will do well"? Or how about, "Use others and benefit from their hard work and good times shall rain upon you"? Maybe....)

What good is it to dream when there are thieves awaiting to take from us at any turn? 
What good is it to do good in this life if it means to starve and suffer just to maybe not suffer the next life? 

Seems flawed to me. Please help me answer these questions, for I am out of answers and left with nothing to live for or strive for and grasping with my last breath for something to hope for.

"Pick Spot and Stare"- Transcending Physical Reality in Times of Sorrow

    I have been spending an awful lot of time studying patterns, lately. The pattern in the blue ceramic tile of the  bathroom floor, the Arabic letter patterns on the Afghan rug in the living room, or the way that the light shines through the patterns of the trees peeking through my window; they all have my complete attention. 

     All my expectations wash away of the world and the people in it. I no longer am fearful. I am no longer grieving, or thinking of loss. I am no longer aware of all the other stuff; the traumatic stuff. I just pick a spot and stare. 
    Sometimes I count the tiles or try to figure out the pattern and number of stitches.  Sometimes I imagine the paisleys in the duvet as protective waters and I swim. I steal away from my body and barely move, but just breathe and count, breathe and swim and breathe...sometimes I even forget to breathe and have to remind myself. 
In...out...In...out...    
     In my silence and stillness, I notice the purposeful mistakes in the weaving of the rug, the randomness-yet awareness of the growth of the tree limbs, the thought put into each tiny tile placed in the grout and I know that all of this is temporary and these things will fade into non-existence eventually. I am reminded of the smallness of everything. At that point, nothing else matters. 
Breathe in...out...in...out...
    It doesn't matter what ills may try to come into our sphere, our sacred space. It isn't ours to keep. It doesn't make us who we are and we observe the right to not absorb it, but allow it to roll off our backs into the protective waters of the paisley. 
     There is so much trouble in this world right now and so many souls around us hanging in the balance. In our tender place, we have compassion for the those lost souls, who struggle to have the freedom from need, or just be still and want nothing. For what are these things worth? The only thing I know that is real, that is really real is the love I feel. Nothing else matters.
   
   

For All Tomorrow's Parties

The sculpture that first influenced me to be an Artist.
"The Fist" Sculpture dedicated to Joe Louis, Robert Graham 1986

No, this isn't Nico singing low, with Lou Reed, about the depressed girl in the corner...This is a happy story with a happily-ever-after sort of feeling. It's about a girl, who as a young bride, left her hometown of Detroit for a better life in the tropics. She met her husband, Nicholas in college, and soon-after, the school-sweethearts married and took off for a better life in Miami, Florida. A better life, to them back in 2000 meant opportunities not available in her decomposing home that was "Detroit burning".

Nicholas in our potential foyer,
imagining many guests!

Amongst naysayers, we went back to a sub-zero Michigan winter, hoping to find a good-enough reason to leave behind Miami, our loving family of friends and all that we built here. Instead, we found multiple reasons. Beckoning with promise, we go with a passionate & wild-west-pioneering spirit, and we even have multiple spaces to incubate our ideas and expand continuously for years to come. Trading in our tiny castle on the beach isn't so bad when what we get in return for the money, is a mini mansion, with enough room to invite all of our Miami peeps! We even have enough left over to help out friends and family and start a new business to boot! 

Now, the greener pastures may be Detroit. It is brimming with hope, opportunity, creative ideas, funding for those ideas, togetherness, willingness and cooperation. Sounds about right for me.

Communities are rebuilding from ashes and pulling together and taking back the land from the banks who disposed of it and left it raw with burning embers. Artists are buying up properties cheap and are using them for creative co-ops, museums, urban farming, food co-ops and learning and healing centers. Areas that 15 years ago were scary as shit, once burnt to the ground and filled with crackheads are now growing, creative communities with yoga studios, coffeeshops and galleries. 

Some of it is even gentrified enough for a certain known coffee giant to plant themselves! The renaissance of Detroit is palpable.  Critics, you MUST see it for yourselves!!! Christ! There's even a Whole Foods on Woodward in Midtown!!!! WTF is right!

I was surprised to see many mom & pop places doing well!
(Detroit Shoppe on Woodward)

In Detroit, the Artist as an entrepreneur, calls the shots. Anything is possible and encouraged! Artists keep Detroit alive, not just the people making money off of the Artists.

We came to Miami for it's art scene, only to find the opposite. Strict rules of conduct and every-man-for-themselves attitude make it like New York, and unless you are a child of the scene, a relative, or an Abramović, Banksy, or Fairey, (or in Miami, a Britto, ugh), you are nobody and treated as such. That's not fair. Why submit to that? Knowing that, we just don't fit in here.  

Another reason to be there is the DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts). This great collection itself lends to an importance to preserve what came before us and not honor so much what the future might hold.

Our goals for this year are simple: Plant ourselves in a place in which our love, ideas, energy and brilliant light can shine. We leave a beacon and invite all of our friends and family to partake in that brilliance and see for themselves a real place with real ideas. Real beauty is built from love. For that is Detroit, and that is our art, and that love is what makes us real.