How I found freedom from my dream

This past year has been a time for reflection and it’s brought big changes in my work. Looking back I see that I realized the dream of my youth.

What was that dream ?

Move to Paris and be an artist. Dreams are attainable. In 1988 I left the US with 400$ in my pocket and a one way ticket to Italy. During the 21 years I lived there I carved a niche in space and built a career.

Then one day I woke up and saw that wasn’t the life I wanted. I sold everything and moved to Paris. People said I was stupid to give away all that I had built and move for the unknown. I had everything in the material world that would make 90% of the people happy. Including a house on the Etruscan coast. Every summer I spent 3 months at the sea…

But Paris was the destination. And it’s been good to me.

Then last year the persona Angie the Artist seemed to vanish. Nothing worked, nothing sold. I was in the red and digging. I had to get a job. I was terrified. I had to get a facial­čĄú and I sobbed for an entire day. Starbucks refused me. Amorino didn’t even respond. My ego was a doormat.

Thank God I was practicing Hatha and Nada Yoga everyday. The vritti were calm.

I wanted a job where I didn’t have to think. I cleaned a house and the lady never paid me. I didn’t want to teach English though I had a good CV and I’d been smart enough to get a teaching certificate. Just before the massive strikes last December I interviewed with Cap English.

Then the strikes hit.

They offered me classes the next day because many of their teachers couldn’t get to work. I walked 3 hours in the rain to teach for 3 hours then another 3 hour walk to get home…

I subbed in different schools until in one school the teachers begged me to take over because the former teacher left.

I never knew how much I would like teaching. I even forget I exist when I’m writing on the blackboard. I was liberated from the persona Angie the Artist because I was enjoying myself, thought I did have to think ­čśë. No time wasted declaring taxes, doing marketing. No pressure.

One day during the lunch pause I looked at a tree and thought how the tree was content. It didn’t need to be anyone. It didn’t have to pretend

I was liberated from a 30+ year ego trip.

And now I am free to paint, scuplt, and play music.

n 2019468 Finess Saucisson

n 201948 Finess Saucisson

When I was drawing this it reminded me of a story about the Macchiaioli in Livorno. One painter was to poor to buy his own fish from the fishmonger in order to paint a still-life. He had to borrow his neighbour’s fish, paint it then give it back.

Why did I think of this story? Because I’m sitting in a supermarket cafe, waiting on my lunch break as I am now subisitute teaching English in French schools. I borrowed the sausage from the shelf.

Follow this link to see all the available Postcards from Paris

25 euro free international standard postage.

n 2019467 Sausage

n 201947 Sausage – an oringinal postcard-sized illustration from Paris

When I was drawing this it reminded me of a story about the Macchiaioli in Livorno. One painter was to poor to buy his own fish from the fishmonger in order to paint a still-life. He had to borrow his neighbour’s fish, paint it then give it back.

Why did I think of this story? Because I’m sitting in a supermarket cafe, waiting on my lunch break as I am now subisitute teaching English in French schools. I borrowed the sausage from the shelf.

Follow this link to see all the available Postcards from Paris

25 euro free international standard postage.

n 201941 Salted French Butter

N 201941 Salted French Butter- original postcard sized illustration on archival paper

Everything is out of order in Paris, including this post which should have gone up a few days ago. It’s the strikes. Right? I couldn’t even pay my taxes. I guess I should have offered butter to oil the spokes.

Follow this link to see all the available Postcards from Paris

25 euro free international standard postage.