Writing Challenge Day 12
Mr. Toby, strutting his custom-made rain jacket made from a discarded Bunnings umbrella I found in our street.
A mix between Tinkerbell and MacGyver
Finding random, ambiguous objects are welcome treasures on my morning walks. It's not the mystery of their origin but the future they hold. In my studio, these items are stored, knowing that the perfect opportunity will come to reinvent them.
You see, I consider myself a mix between Tinkerbell and MacGyver—creative, inventive, curious, and playful. Energy surges through my veins when I find an object with potential or my kids bring me their broken things. I get to use the full capacity of my brain, puzzling, problem-solving, and tinkering. Each project teaches me something new and allows me to master a new skill. The urge to fix and create comes from deep inside.
As a youngster, I did not aspire to join groups like mindless sheep. I lived for the virtues of independence, ambition, and ideas. I was (still am) anything but impressed by society's expectations of what is considered a respectable and acceptable job. I refused to conform and end up in a dull office with uninspiring souls. Although I was praised for my formidable artistic skills, I was also reminded that a future in the creative industries, especially as a woman, was not feasible. You know what they just did there? They told an independent, strong woman with ADHD that she couldn't do something. Challenge accepted. I would gladly prove them wrong.
The pursuit of an art career became serious business when I popped out babies and our marriage was about to expire. There was no work for an overqualified 40-something woman with a 10-year gap in her CV. It was game on from the moment I registered my business in 2014. After the first year, it became evident I was great at the art part but lacked business skills. I had a lot to learn.
A small business course would fix that, right? Yeah, nah, that was a complete waste of time. Eager to learn as much as possible, I attended many art-specific workshops offered by the council. Still, other artists were getting the gigs. What did they have that I didn't? Most of them had Fine Arts degrees. Formal training, of course! Shortly after, I signed up for an online Fine Arts degree.
A wormhole to another dimension opened. My first unit touched on sculpture, lighting up my inner Tinkerbell/MacGyver like the morning sun. I changed my major from painting to sculpture. Researching artists, sketching and testing ideas, creating sculptures and installations—how much better could this get? I wholeheartedly threw myself into the world of learning. It became life itself. It fulfilled every part of my being. I soaked up as much information as possible and gave it everything.
The degree was brilliant, but I needed more—more business knowledge, more everything, more art. I did residencies, workshops, and professional development programs alongside my degree. I had to be ready to hit the ground running as a fully-fledged artist by the time I finished. By then, my two girls and I would be on our own. I HAD to be ready. I graduated and added another year, completing my honours.
As predicted, I fell into that deep, dark post-university sinkhole—no more deadlines, accountability, and still no business skills. Yep, a fine arts degree doesn't teach you any art business skills.
In perfect timing, The Refinery Program, an incubator for creatives focused on the business side of art practice, crossed my path. It turned out to be a great transition. The implemented tools and techniques are already assisting me in holding myself accountable and streamlining my processes. The fruits of all that hard work are starting to pay off. This year, I have met all the deadlines for EOI, festivals, and art prizes I wanted to enter, with all but one being successful so far. (An hour ago, I opened an email with another acceptance letter—woohoo!)
To myself: In this world, I am the master of my fate, the creator of my destiny. And as I tinker and toil, I am reminded of the magic that lies within me—the magic that transforms the mundane into the magnificent. In my studio, I am not just an artist; I am a magician, a sorcerer of sorts, wielding my tools like wands and casting spells of creativity. And so, I continue to embrace my identity as a cross between Tinkerbell and MacGyver, relishing the wonder of creation and the thrill of invention. For as long as I have my hands and my imagination, there will always be something to fix, make, and dream up. And that is a life worth living.
___
