When I was 15 or 16, I sat down at the dining room table with pencil in hand, and instead of drawing an airplane, I looked at a snapshot of my smiling nephew Bobby Shymansky probably 6 at the time, and drew his portrait. It was a matter-of-fact thing. No walking into the living room and asking dad what he wanted me to draw, no guilty conscience at work beneath the surface; I simply drew him, and the final product - a simple pencil portrait drawn on a scrap of paper — was better than I expected, winning the approval of dad and the thanks of my sister whose son inspired my effort. It was a flash in the pan. I knew I could do that. A few months later, using a set of pastel chalks I had been given for Christmas, I created three colorful artistic pieces on sheets of large paper mom had brought home from work for me. I gave one to Diane Brancato, one to Reverend George Embry and eventually lost the one I kept. It was no big deal. I knew I could do it and I was satisfied; much the same as when my first aviation article written for money was published in the June 1978 issue of Aircraft Illustrated. THAT was a terrific high point of my life (it’s a world-wide-read magazine) but nothing possessed me to follow up with articles to everyone who might publish them. Only when I began writing Art Seen, my local arts column that ran in Illinois Times almost a year, did I think I had a future with the local arts community. My faith was unwarranted.
The column was cancelled for reasons I will share anywhere but here. I tried to capitalize on that “fame” by expanding the web presence I had launched (with the urging of a local artist/poet/friend) but it didn’t work out. I was mistaken to believe I could engineer a future for myself as an arts journalist.
At my CIVAG web site, in recent weeks, I’ve asked for help to pay for the service; not my time. And following the screams of silence, I’m shutting it down. I have too many distractions, too many interests that take my time away from interests that bear fruit I can eat. I’m a hair bummed out over this. The saving grace of my ending this protracted spree of arts writing and photography for others is the reassurance that the many who didn’t engage me in that enterprise will also not engage me in its aftermath. The few friends from all this — Sonia Lang, Katherine Pauley, Mike Manning, Shirley Caldwell — will have been provided the promised presence they paid for by the time their work disappears from the artists’ web galleries. There will only be comfort and relief from the silence from the rest. At least I didn’t cheat anyone.
My focus now will be JOURNALISM, poetry and aviation history. The SCGS effort will continue, probably at a changed domain address, through the summer, and it will disappear also. I owe Chanson du Soir a review, and I’ll post it by this time next week. I MUST also keep the Conger family genealogy thing going. It’s a blood thing.
I’m bummed out by this. I surely enjoyed the company and conversation with the artists. But their support was more important than the good times I had chatting with them. I was with them, in part, for the wrong reasons. When I can return — if I ever return to them, it won’t be because I have something to SELL THEM. It will be ONLY because I like them. Life is better that way. No hopes; no heartbreaks.
The story of my life.
Live long . . . . . and proper.
I’m not familiar with the CIVAG website, but I can completely understand your feeling about ending it. I have also started and moderated groups (some for artists and for networking) in which it seems that everyone wants the benefits, but they don’t want to contribute - either financially or with their communication/suggestions when requested. I can relate to the deafening silence too. It’s good to move on when you must, and not feel guilty about it. Now you can spend that time more productively, doing what YOU want to do.
Darla, thanks for reading H&Q and posting your good comment. Artists are artists often because they can devote impressive energy and talent to creation Tom Lehrer used to sing a song about famous German scientist: “‘Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down. That’s not my department,’ says Werner von Braun.” If my civag enterprise had served the local talent, word would have reached those who didn’t support it early. It didn’t, so there are no hard feelings. “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” — Thank you Joni Mitchell.