I know many MANY people felt that 2009 sucked huge donkey boner. I have to agree, it was absolutely the most challenging and life-altering year of my life. But really, it's all a matter of perspective...
I greeted 2009 in my final semester of art school. Immediately, I put together a website and began putting together my 'personal brand' through a resume, artist statement, letters, business cards, the whole shebang. I did really well, too.
I envisioned myself getting a rockin' job as a junior art director or concept/production artist at a hip design firm. I applied to every job I felt even close to being qualified for. I spent hours doing this every day. It was hard fucking work.
I started getting letters back that many of the places that had the job postings had suddenly gone on a hiring freeze. I got a rejection letter from the design department at True Value. Seriously.
So I figured I probably should figure out a backup plan, my goal was to be employed in an art field by graduation and so I started applying for management gigs through big retailers. Let me tell you how much I FUCKING HATE those goddamn Unicru personality tests. Unfuckingbelievable how much those things just suck your soul right out.
I ended up not doing so bad at first. College was going fantastically well and I was starting to get serious about the hottie that I had been dating since late the end of 2008. I busted my buns Monday through Friday, taking care of schoolwork and the job hunt and was able to spend my weekends having sexual marathons with my man and drinking binges with my best friends. The end of the year highlight was an exhibition that I acted as a director for, featuring myself and 6 other artists in my graduating class. The exhibition was incredible, friends and family were all around, all the artists got rave reviews. I had been grinding away on the planning for this event since February and to see it all come together and be at the center of the party was incredible. I was on top of the world.
I had a very brief gig teaching an evening figure drawing class but that didn't pan out because nobody wanted to make the financial or time commitment of signing up for an 8 week course. The group organizing the class said they would be in touch... that was back in April. Never heard another word from them. It wouldn't have paid extremely well, but it would have been a great side project.
After that, I worked as a studio manager for a photographer. This was a pretty good gig, It started out at a couple days a week and paid pretty well, but eventually became three days a week, then two, and then I would frequently get called off. But still, it was a bit of cash and gave me an introduction to an awesome art center on the south side of the city where I did a bunch of networking. A little soul crushing that this was the best art gig I could snag for myself, but it was something, which was certainly better than nothing.
I also ended up getting a retail gig in a jewelry shop. Funny story behind that one: Back in May, my family was on vacation in Colorado and my mom and I were out shopping at a really cute mall. We wandered into a jewelry store and the manager started schmoozing with us. When he found out we were from Chicago, he said that they were going to be opening a store there in the near future. Despite the fact that I was wearing torn and paint-splattered jeans and a tank top that I had worn hiking earlier that day which showed my extensive ink, I asked if they were hiring. Long story short, the manager gave me his cell and I got in touch with him a few weeks later. Interviewed, got the job, and in May I started working part-time in retail.
The gig started out boring (which is worse than hectic and stressful as far as I'm concerned) and got worse from there. My schedule was always changing, and of course my weekends were shot. The shifts seemed to eat my entire day, leaving me too tired when I came home to do more job hunting, or anything else for that matter.
The new assistant manager was a prissy passive aggressive airhead who attempted to treat everyone below her like children. I'm pretty sure she was scared of me, and I absolutely despised her but just gritted my teeth about it for months, because this was the only 'real' job that had hired me in my half year of desperate job hunting. Brutally depressing. The running joke with my friends and family was when they would ask how I was doing, I would always answer "Full of hate and rage" and I wasn't kidding.
In July, I moved out of the studio apartment where I had spent some of the happiest years of my life into a teeny little room in a flat with 3 other roommates and one bathroom. Luckily, the rent is super-cheap and my roomies are all excellent, weird, artsy and laid-back individuals who love the sauce and the herb as much as I do. It's close quarters but we get along great, so at least there was something to break up the misery of my job situation.
In October, the photographer I was working for got hired for a traveling gig with ESPN. Fucking awesome for him, but sucked shit for me, all I was left with was a retail gig under a manager that I wanted to throw down an elevator shaft, selling crap I really didn't give two shits about, making unbelievably shitty money. I had given up the opportunity to work a seasonal Halloween gig I've been a part of for the past three years because the jewelry store couldn't give me the required 5 weekends off. It was kind of heartbreaking, I had been looking forward to Fright Fest all year and felt like I had no control over my life. I had been complaining endlessly for weeks getting more and more unhappy. Whenever anyone told me that I should walk, I felt like bashing my head into a brick wall because if I left that job, I would have no job at all. I had started out so confident and ambitious and determined to succeed, despite the gloomy job market, and just kept slipping farther and farther into shit but felt compelled to stay out of fear.
My misery came to an emotional PMS-induced head in the middle of October and I gave notice that I was gonna bail. I had a few nibbles from other artists and professionals in the art center to have me come work for them, but didn't have anything secured yet. Didn't care. I had to be out of there.
The night I gave my notice that I was going to leave (no, I didn't just up and quit, I didn't want to burn any bridges), I went home and assembled a studio on a coffee table next to a little-used couch with my table top easel and all the paint that I hadn't seen since graduation in May. Halloween was the last day I worked at the jewelry store. I would be "on call" for the holiday season to work the busiest shifts, but I never heard another word from that place. I think they knew what was up.
I began to paint again, and it felt INCREDIBLE. My parents were cute, they immediately commissioned some work from me, and a few friends commissioned paintings as Christmas gifts. Freelance work agrees with me. I stay up late and sleep in most days. Sometimes I paint all day. Sometimes I scour craigslist for illustration work, sometimes I tear through casting calls on model networking websites. I recently picked up tattooing which had been a dream job of mine since I was about 14, and I'm psyched as shit to learn as much about the art as I can. It's weird to go from a medium that I've gained such confidence and familiarity with to something completely new. It's a challenge, both scary and liberating to know there is soooooo much to learn and I'm just psyched as shit to master it.
I'm busy but I'm free. I don't go out for dinner much anymore, I shop at Aldi's and feel pretty kickass about living on such a tight budget. I even managed to pay off my credit card. The cash I make modeling pays for rent, a few paintings here and there pays for food, a few dollars tattooing pays for a bottle of whiskey or train fare to see my friends. I've got a line of t-shirts scheduled for production within the coming weeks.
2009 has taught me what I can live with and what I can't live without. "Enough" is a matter of perspective. I have a bunch of marketable skills, and I'm using them to promote myself instead of some other schmuck. I have family and friends who will see to it that I never starve in the gutter. I have groceries in the pantry. I'm happier than I've been since the night of my art exhibition half a month ago. Everything I have is mine. I am an artist.
New Years Eve was absolutely delightful. Spent the day with my hotsauce boyfriend, went out for AMAZINGLY DELICIOUS SUSHI with my roomies (if you live near Chicago, ask me about this place. It's the best and least expensive sushi place I have ever found), and had a pretty chill countdown at home.
I don't know what the new year will bring, but I do know that I am in control of where I'm going.
Life: Explained
I greeted 2009 in my final semester of art school. Immediately, I put together a website and began putting together my 'personal brand' through a resume, artist statement, letters, business cards, the whole shebang. I did really well, too.
I envisioned myself getting a rockin' job as a junior art director or concept/production artist at a hip design firm. I applied to every job I felt even close to being qualified for. I spent hours doing this every day. It was hard fucking work.
I started getting letters back that many of the places that had the job postings had suddenly gone on a hiring freeze. I got a rejection letter from the design department at True Value. Seriously.
So I figured I probably should figure out a backup plan, my goal was to be employed in an art field by graduation and so I started applying for management gigs through big retailers. Let me tell you how much I FUCKING HATE those goddamn Unicru personality tests. Unfuckingbelievable how much those things just suck your soul right out.
I ended up not doing so bad at first. College was going fantastically well and I was starting to get serious about the hottie that I had been dating since late the end of 2008. I busted my buns Monday through Friday, taking care of schoolwork and the job hunt and was able to spend my weekends having sexual marathons with my man and drinking binges with my best friends. The end of the year highlight was an exhibition that I acted as a director for, featuring myself and 6 other artists in my graduating class. The exhibition was incredible, friends and family were all around, all the artists got rave reviews. I had been grinding away on the planning for this event since February and to see it all come together and be at the center of the party was incredible. I was on top of the world.
I had a very brief gig teaching an evening figure drawing class but that didn't pan out because nobody wanted to make the financial or time commitment of signing up for an 8 week course. The group organizing the class said they would be in touch... that was back in April. Never heard another word from them. It wouldn't have paid extremely well, but it would have been a great side project.
After that, I worked as a studio manager for a photographer. This was a pretty good gig, It started out at a couple days a week and paid pretty well, but eventually became three days a week, then two, and then I would frequently get called off. But still, it was a bit of cash and gave me an introduction to an awesome art center on the south side of the city where I did a bunch of networking. A little soul crushing that this was the best art gig I could snag for myself, but it was something, which was certainly better than nothing.
I also ended up getting a retail gig in a jewelry shop. Funny story behind that one: Back in May, my family was on vacation in Colorado and my mom and I were out shopping at a really cute mall. We wandered into a jewelry store and the manager started schmoozing with us. When he found out we were from Chicago, he said that they were going to be opening a store there in the near future. Despite the fact that I was wearing torn and paint-splattered jeans and a tank top that I had worn hiking earlier that day which showed my extensive ink, I asked if they were hiring. Long story short, the manager gave me his cell and I got in touch with him a few weeks later. Interviewed, got the job, and in May I started working part-time in retail.
The gig started out boring (which is worse than hectic and stressful as far as I'm concerned) and got worse from there. My schedule was always changing, and of course my weekends were shot. The shifts seemed to eat my entire day, leaving me too tired when I came home to do more job hunting, or anything else for that matter.
The new assistant manager was a prissy passive aggressive airhead who attempted to treat everyone below her like children. I'm pretty sure she was scared of me, and I absolutely despised her but just gritted my teeth about it for months, because this was the only 'real' job that had hired me in my half year of desperate job hunting. Brutally depressing. The running joke with my friends and family was when they would ask how I was doing, I would always answer "Full of hate and rage" and I wasn't kidding.
In July, I moved out of the studio apartment where I had spent some of the happiest years of my life into a teeny little room in a flat with 3 other roommates and one bathroom. Luckily, the rent is super-cheap and my roomies are all excellent, weird, artsy and laid-back individuals who love the sauce and the herb as much as I do. It's close quarters but we get along great, so at least there was something to break up the misery of my job situation.
In October, the photographer I was working for got hired for a traveling gig with ESPN. Fucking awesome for him, but sucked shit for me, all I was left with was a retail gig under a manager that I wanted to throw down an elevator shaft, selling crap I really didn't give two shits about, making unbelievably shitty money. I had given up the opportunity to work a seasonal Halloween gig I've been a part of for the past three years because the jewelry store couldn't give me the required 5 weekends off. It was kind of heartbreaking, I had been looking forward to Fright Fest all year and felt like I had no control over my life. I had been complaining endlessly for weeks getting more and more unhappy. Whenever anyone told me that I should walk, I felt like bashing my head into a brick wall because if I left that job, I would have no job at all. I had started out so confident and ambitious and determined to succeed, despite the gloomy job market, and just kept slipping farther and farther into shit but felt compelled to stay out of fear.
My misery came to an emotional PMS-induced head in the middle of October and I gave notice that I was gonna bail. I had a few nibbles from other artists and professionals in the art center to have me come work for them, but didn't have anything secured yet. Didn't care. I had to be out of there.
The night I gave my notice that I was going to leave (no, I didn't just up and quit, I didn't want to burn any bridges), I went home and assembled a studio on a coffee table next to a little-used couch with my table top easel and all the paint that I hadn't seen since graduation in May. Halloween was the last day I worked at the jewelry store. I would be "on call" for the holiday season to work the busiest shifts, but I never heard another word from that place. I think they knew what was up.
I began to paint again, and it felt INCREDIBLE. My parents were cute, they immediately commissioned some work from me, and a few friends commissioned paintings as Christmas gifts. Freelance work agrees with me. I stay up late and sleep in most days. Sometimes I paint all day. Sometimes I scour craigslist for illustration work, sometimes I tear through casting calls on model networking websites. I recently picked up tattooing which had been a dream job of mine since I was about 14, and I'm psyched as shit to learn as much about the art as I can. It's weird to go from a medium that I've gained such confidence and familiarity with to something completely new. It's a challenge, both scary and liberating to know there is soooooo much to learn and I'm just psyched as shit to master it.
I'm busy but I'm free. I don't go out for dinner much anymore, I shop at Aldi's and feel pretty kickass about living on such a tight budget. I even managed to pay off my credit card. The cash I make modeling pays for rent, a few paintings here and there pays for food, a few dollars tattooing pays for a bottle of whiskey or train fare to see my friends. I've got a line of t-shirts scheduled for production within the coming weeks.
2009 has taught me what I can live with and what I can't live without. "Enough" is a matter of perspective. I have a bunch of marketable skills, and I'm using them to promote myself instead of some other schmuck. I have family and friends who will see to it that I never starve in the gutter. I have groceries in the pantry. I'm happier than I've been since the night of my art exhibition half a month ago. Everything I have is mine. I am an artist.
New Years Eve was absolutely delightful. Spent the day with my hotsauce boyfriend, went out for AMAZINGLY DELICIOUS SUSHI with my roomies (if you live near Chicago, ask me about this place. It's the best and least expensive sushi place I have ever found), and had a pretty chill countdown at home.
I don't know what the new year will bring, but I do know that I am in control of where I'm going.
Life: Explained
katniss:
good for you, chica. i hope you rock out your new year, and rock it hard. 
user209834982:
Things will be amazing.