So, my husband is an artist.
This may come as a surpise to those of you who have known him only as Unemployed or Terraforming Engineer (aka landscaper). It grates severely upon his soul that he’s still paying off student loans for a career he’s not currently enjoying. (Never mind the fact that he paid off about $15, 000 of student loan debt in the four or so years that he was working as an artist.)
He’s going into his ex-place-of-employment today to remind them all that he’s still alive and available for high-paying work – er, rewarding career-focused creative exercise, I mean. I hope things go well. He loves landscaping, but he misses animation a lot.
He’s good at what he does. Really good. He designs backgrounds for animated TV series, and he’s aces. He’s also an excellent supervisor of others – a good motivator, a terrific communicator, etcetera – and that’s what he was doing at the end before the industry started its downward spiral into the crumpled, dry thing it was for about eighteen months.
I think it’s because he loves art so much that it’s bothered me for the past couple of years to see him have no interest in sketching at home any more. He used to sketch all the time, but over time it has petered out to the point that in the past twelve months, I think I’d be lucky to count half a dozen sketches. He designs pieces of furniture, which he then constructs for people here and there, but drawing for the pure pleasure? It went the way of the dodo.
Which is why I’m so thrilled that he walked out of Omer De Serres today firmly intent on beginning oil painting again this fall.
I’ve never seen my husband paint. (Apartment walls really don’t count.) There are pieces of artwork stored at his parents’ house, and his colour and black and white works framed on their walls, but I’ve never actually seen him put brush to canvas. I’m wild to see him do it. So wild, as a matter of fact, that when my next cheque comes in, I’m going to pick up oil paints and brushes for him, since his old ones are all dried up and falling apart. (Thus falls the plan of picking up a piece or two of new clothing every cheque; on the next one I have to replace the badly warped bridge on my cello, which will cost about $120, and I want my husband to have those paints. Well, I bought shoes yesterday; I’ll use that as part of my clothing goal.)
Understandably, everyone wants to leave work behind when they come home at night. It’s disturbing, though, to see an artist come home and not be able to draw for fun and relaxation, since they’ve been doing it for someone else all day. I’m all for this renaissance in my husband’s artistic life. I’d also love to see him back in his original career. This time, though, I’m going to make sure he keeps up the personal artistic expression as well as the work sort of art. I think oil painting and designing backgrounds are varied enough that he can stay interested in both.
Cross your fingers.
