Sometimes this job sucks.

I'm sure you've all heard the term " starving artist ". There's a reason why its starving artist, and not starving criminal or starving writer. It's because alot of artists are so poor, they litterally can't afford food. Well, we could if we didn't drink beer, but then painting wouldn't be as fun. A few of us would usually work through lunch, and after 7 pm the cafeteria would close, leaving those of us with meal plans screwed, some of us didn't even have meal plans. By the time we eased up for a break at midnight, the menu would be either gas station beer and cigarettes thanks to my gas card, or if we could scrape up enough cash, Wendys. Rolling Rock was usually $11 an 18 pack, Miller High Life $10, or you could go the malt liquor route. There's something called Joose that's 10% by volume of a tall boy of malt sugar, but damn they were cheap. Lucky Strikes were only $5 a pack, but there was always cigarettes to go around anyway.

Solidarity was commonplace, any of us that had money during an all-nighter would cover the others. When we ran out of canvases to paint on, we painted just canvas. When that ran out, we'd paint masonite or wood. When that ran out, we painted scrapwood. Then paper, after that, It'd be time to fine something else. I would argue that there is no other major other than art that students would spend all night working on, in their classroom. We did this because there was nothing we would rather be doing. We just wanted to paint. One time we spent three days and nights working, playing basketball when we got tired. That was the longest I'd ever stayed awake, even though I drove from Las Vegas to Boston without sleeping, but that's another story.

We painted all day and all night, because it felt right. There was no comparison to creating something out of nothing, to stand back from your hard work and see something happen that, you didn't know you were capable of. When you see a certain color next to another, and something great happens. You've just created something new and original, you've created space. When you feel passonately about a work of art that your hands made, there aren't alot of feelings that can compare. That's why we put up with being poor, overlooked, and written off. That feeling is worth a lifetime of poverty. As long as we still have beer, that is.




" Edwin Roy Sewell " acrillic on canvas

This painting took 50 hour to make, and 2 all nighters. I wouldn't have had it any other
way. My back hurting and my eyes shot, huddled over a canvas I just spent 12 hours working on, looking back and then going back into it. AGain and again and again, alone in a studio. Yep, wouldn't have had it any other way.