Everybody loves an epiphany. And a slice of toast with a cuppa-brew. And crikey-Charlie, I’ve had both this week.
As I sit here, with another pot of the good stuff, looking out wistfully over the sun setting upon the back-streets of Byker, a smile creeps onto my face. I have realised my place this week, why I am here, in this city, and what it is I am doing.
I am doing art. I am living art. Art is living me. And how could anyone in my position possibly frown? I am here, doing what I want to do, meeting many wonderful people along the way. Having fun, working hard, enjoying every minute. And for the moments when it seems hard, exhausting, when I can’t see why, the community of artists here is only ever a preview away; willing, smiling, laughing, discussing, collaborating, realising, justifying.
And so next time someone asks me what I study and “What are you going to do with that?” with a smirk on their face, I shall simply reply,
“I am living. I am an artist, and I can’t wait for Monday. Can you?”