I will never retire.

Well, maybe...

We all daydream about what life will be like "on down the road," but I realized something a little surprising recently.

When I envision my future, I always see myself working in some capacity. Read in between the lines and what this means is that I don't see myself ever really retiring. 

THE VISION: One day, I shall have long gray hair, be dressed very smartly, working around younger, kind and talented people. I think of Grace Coddington or Iris Apfel as my older female role models.

I will own a business (or two) and make artwork, jewelry, and design clothes. I will sew impeccably, and the spaces in which I live and work will be bright, white, and clean, the atmosphere calm.

I'll probably wear a lot of Eileen Fisher.

Not only is it fun to imagine what the future will be like, it's also really valuable in terms of right now.

If you really believe you'll never retire, it motivates you to think about life right now more day-to-day. This is a good thing for my anxious heart that resides in our fear-mongering society. Just think about all of the insurance packages one person needs to buy (so they say). Health, car, house, flood, earthquake, business, general liability, business, phone, computer... Geez, Louise!

Don't get me wrong. It's very wise to plan for the future, but the fear of the unknown can really suck the joy out of today for most people. And for me (Artist on Tight Budget), it only incites terror because I'm not able to save as much as I "should." 

I subconsciously decided a long time ago that instead of working non-stop to save up or putting things off until "life slows down," I live today, right now, doing and supporting as many of the things (people, places) that I value. How I live today is how I want to live when I'm old. There's nothing virtuous about this- and I'm not saying it's for everyone- but it helps a person with sensibilities such as myself sleep better at night. 

And really when I say day-to-day, I mean week-to-week. I've learned it's more manageable to view doing all you want seven days at a time. So on top of paying bills and surviving as an adult, which is a full-time job in and of itself, here are a few things I make a point to accomplish or do each week, if not everyday:

• cook meals for myself
• talk to my family on the phone (because they are far away)
• make plans with friends that don't just involve going to a bar or eating (two things I LOVE with all my heart BUT typically aren't memorable)
• exercise outside: walk, hike, run 
• write
• make artwork
• spend time on a hobby (currently sewing)
• plan small trips and vacations
• read
• sit still
• do nothing
• stare into space
• hold and pet cat (all day, every day)

This way of life changes everything. It transforms "what we are supposed to do" on its head. Retirement then is no longer this big thing that we wait for, that takes away from living a fulfilling life right now. It's also not something we need to stress out about if we're unable to save a lot right now.

If I'm saving a little each month and living each week well (working, playing, resting), I can live this way until I die, right? 

It may not be a full proof plan. Life is full of unknowns and I really know nothing about how adulthood works (so maybe don't listen to me), but this realization does at the very least help me worry less, which is good when your main pursuit in life is as fickle as Art, God bless it.

I don't know if things will pan out how I'd like them to, but I now view the time and energy I spend in my studio as an investment toward that long gray haired vision I wrote about above. This helps me worry less about living unconventionally- the up and down life of an artist with no benefits package protecting me from all of life's potential harms.

While we wait to see if the visions of our future selves pan out, let us retire to our porch swings, drink in hand, to stare at the light through the leaves, the fluffy neighborhood cats playing/fighting, the people passing by. Make your future old lady or man self proud. Cheers.

I spend a lot of time looking at glossy magazines and Instagram accounts of supermodels and fashion designers because this is what I make artwork about. Every now and then I ask myself if I shouldn't pick a different subject matter for the sake of my emotional and mental well-being. If someone were to ask (no one has) I would tend to say that most women should NOT look at supermodels' Instagram accounts on the regular. But I do, and it's stirred up an interesting mix of emotions within me. 

Since college, I've prided myself on being thrifty. Literally, I've mostly bought clothes from thrift stores. I love second hand things, giving them a new life. You may know that I even created and ran a shop that helped people recycle home decor and building materials for five years. I have been the happy recipient of probably thousands of dollars worth of food and items that others didn't want (I would love to know that number by the way- the monetary value of all the things I've received for free).

I've never had cable, and I didn't have the internet for a long time. I never cared how much anyone I dated made. I never had a job that paid particularly well. I was just so NOT materialistic, guys.

Then I started to become fascinated with fashion and design, and it didn't take me long to realize that I was in fact SUPER materialistic but just too broke to do anything about it. My virtuous way of life was shattered, and I didn't even get to have the leather purses or gold jewelry to ease my pain. 

I've been studying the fashion industry for several years now, and it was the gateway drug that led me to to pop music, rap, then country (?!?) I had never before allowed myself to be immersed in this culture. Deep down I knew I had liked it all along, but I had friends that wouldn't approve and so I snubbed my nose at it, too.

Today, I happily scroll through Justin Bieber's Instagram and see all of the exotic places he travels, the decadent and outlandish clothes he wears. It's like a needle to my vain. 

At the same time, I currently have a job that allows me time to listen to podcasts, and so I've been listening like crazy. Several times recently, I've heard famous people talk about the lack of happiness at the top- Money truly doesn't buy you happiness.

You know I know this. I do. Everyone does, right?

I'm currently working on many internal things in my life I've long neglected which is helping with so much of the external, how I relate to the world. I'm drawing closer to friends and family in a way that I never have. I'm taking care of myself better than ever and would go so far to say that looking at fashion magazines has actually helped me care for myself better in a lot of ways. I'm making goals for myself and working toward them. I'm becoming more disciplined and engaged so that I can live a life I'm proud of. The past is still being dealt with and the present isn't perfect, but I'm pretty sure one could call me content. It's new and good. 

But... BUT...

There is a part of my heart that is encrusted in diamonds and gilded with gold and it wants every pretty thing. For whatever reason (I blame my swank lineage) I have champagne taste, but I don't even have a beer budget*. I barely have a coffee budget. 

There are times, many times, I just really want to have so much money I don't know what to do with myself. If we admit we're materialistic, isn't that the dream? I don't want anyone to tell me that it's lonely at the top. I want to know it for myself. I want to make so much money that I can book that $10,0000 a night penthouse Airbnb. Like freakin' Beyonce. (Don't worry, I'll invite you all) I want to love everything I put on because it's beautifully designed and tailored. I'm not satisfied with rich celebrities merely telling me this lifestyle can't buy happiness. I want to know that it can't. Just for, let's say, a year. Send me on this mission so that I can tell the world money can't buy happiness. I'll gladly do it. 

And then I'll happily go back to my cable-free, quarry swimming East Tennessee life. 

*My grandfather told me once, "You can't have champagne taste on a beer budget." I think he knew I'd struggle with this one. 

Title: Their Sadness Overwhelmed Them

Dimensions: 34 x 28"

Medium: acrylic, varnish, and food packaging collaged on canvas

Artist: (Me!) Beth Meadows

Painted In: I started this painting several years ago (maybe 2010??) and completed it this year, at the beginning of July.

Influences (Below is a window to my often hidden soul. Be warned.) and Process:

• There was a time I was pretty sad. So most of my 20s, and before then, as a child up until high school... so, a long time. After college, almost every day for at least two years, I'd cry- at home, at work, in my car, and all other places in between. It was exhausting, terrible, addictive, and in moments of clarity, baffling and- not funny haha- but funny how I couldn't find my way out of it when I was in it. A few years out of the worst of it, I decided to make a painting that mocked depression's stupidity, and that painting is this painting. 
• The space is based on the kitchen in my studio apartment in Maplehurst, the charming neighborhood in Knoxville I lived in right after college. (You could see the Sunsphere from the kitchen window.) It really was a magical place, full of musicians and free-spirited people. We all lived frugally but were creative enough to have a lot of fun adventures. Magical, chaotic, irresponsible- good words to describe that time. (Sidenote: If I had known how badly being irresponsible suited me, I would have known this was such a large part of my discontentment. But it took me ten more years to figure that one out, like only a month ago did I realize this. I bought (and maybe sometimes still buy) into the inaccurate theory that being an artist means living a care-free, chaotic, tethered to nothing life, but I've learned I am much more content being a responsible human being, a twist to my life I didn't expect nor have easily accepted.)
• The cat: So you may have heard. I have a cat named Juicy, and she came with this very apartment in Maplehurst. No lie. The girl I sublet from left her there so I could have her. While I was not in great mental shape at this time, it was during those two years I started down the long road to recovery, and it was Juicy that first helped me. Well, God, and then Juicy. I have, and seriously had back then, a difficult time accepting love from others into my life, which I believe is the cause of a lot of my pain and searching. My sadness was too unbearable at that time, so I left Juicy for five weeks to go to L'abri in Switzerland to see if my depression could be dealt with there (It was and I love that place for this reason). I don't know if it was God, but what may have been God, told me to return to Knoxville and "Accept All Amounts of Real Love" specifically, let that cat's love into my life. And so it was Juicy's presence that started me down a better path. I was still terribly sad, but when I'd come home to that cat rolling and meowing in dirt at the sight of me, I'd pick up her soft fleshy body and relish in all of her warmth and purring love. It's a vulnerable thing to admit, but it is the reason I painted this, and it's the reason I love that little angel cat dearly.
• At the not great advice of a peer who critiqued the painting many years ago, I got stuck on how to complete it, so I didn't touch it for several years. I also realized it had a striking and unintentional "Alice in Wonderland" quality, which also caused me to hesitate. In the end, I just embraced that quality. I watched that movie a lot when I was younger, so it was bound to show up sooner or later.
• 2016 starts. This year has been a little nuts in terms of transition. I cancelled my one art show scheduled. A week later, Sarah, the former manager at Old City Java, asked if I would hang artwork there within two weeks. I said yes because I like OCJ but knew I had to complete some unfinished work in order to have enough to show. So I picked up this panting again.
• I refined the girl and added in more objects swirling around. I added the food packaging as a shout out to the series I created in 2014 of supermodels with food packaging as their clothing. I am currently making another similar series.
• I also went ahead with my original plan- the one I previously got stuck on- to tint varnish blue and paint over the acrylic to insinuate water. I wasn't sure how it would work, but it went over pretty smoothly.
• The tears were the last touch and my favorite thing about this painting! When I was a kid, my family went to the circus. We were pretty far away from the circular stage but still able to see this one clown's tears shooting from his eyes when he'd get hurt. I loved it so much!! I added these in to talk about how ridiculous depression is, like drowning and no one can throw you a life line. Except for maybe the sweetest and most empathetic cat, loving you one day at a time. 

It is for sale, and you can find it by clicking Shop above. 

1. MY ARTWORK

For some reason it's become hard for me to sit down and write an artist statement, so much so, I didn't include one in my last show. I think it's fine to do without one if it's not coming easily, but I'd still like to share the backstory of my artwork, and it would be nice to do that informally here.  For example, I envision posting a photo of a painting and then making a list of all the things that influenced it, as opposed to writing out a small and formal essay (aka an artist statement). I like lists. I like them a lot. (See: This post)

2. TRANSPARENCY OF JOY & PAIN

I've been thinking about the potential disconnect between my social media account and Real Life and hope writing can bridge that gap.

I try not to relay negative things on social media because I don't feel like it's the best place for that. So I keep it light (instead of telling you how often I think about giving up making artwork or how many panic attacks I've had about money. You know, that kind of thing). 

At the same time, while I know deep in my heart that most people are also only putting their ***Best** on social media, it can be such a hard place to be in because we can't not compare ourselves to others. If we don't see the hard things in others' lives, we start to wonder if and why we are the only ones who are unhappy/ poor/ lonely/ fill in the blank. And I don't want to contribute to that either. On multiple occasions, people have come up to me in Real Life and told me I must be doing so well because that's what it looks like from Instagram. Oh, brother...

So I'm here to tell you, that just ain't true. My life is equal parts joy and struggle. Yes, I am doing well. And I am also prone to fits of panic, and a lot of other fun things. 

3. ENCOURAGEMENT

Through sharing challenges, struggles, fear, panic, frustration, etc., etc., my hope is that I can offer encouragement to others who are pursuing something they love or frustratedly daydreaming about it. We're all in the same boat here, the boat-of-not-knowing-what-the-heck-we're-doing (#illustrationidea). Yes, it can be wonderful to pursue a dream. Yes, it is also really painful. 

I deeply want to help artists, or anyone with creative endeavors, to jump the hurdles that are undoubtedly in front of them by sharing my experiences. 

4. INSIGHT AS AN ARTIST

I've had a little baby spark of a desire to start a lecture and How To series for artists and recent art grads in Knoxville. I'd love to talk about things that I've learned in my decade+ since school in hopes that others can bypass a lot of the pitfalls I faced.

I'd also like to share what I think Knoxville needs to help support artists and encourage artists to view themselves as savvy business people from the moment they cliche-ly throw that cap up in the air and saunter into the Real World. And just maybe, that insight could apply to people in other cities, too. 

I want to start developing some of those ideas here. 

5. MY GOALS

I'd like to talk about goals I have, which may be no fun for anyone else to read, but it will hopefully help me think through some things. Maybe you can help me with them?

6. STORY TIME/ MIXED BAG

I want to write for fun and for the challenge of it. I want to put words together, and I want to form sentences and paragraphs with those words to talk about intriguing things I come across in my life. They're all a part of my internal thought process that can well up in me when I'm in my studio in a very overwhelming way.

I wonder if writing will help tame that beautiful stallion with ADD (aka my brain) and feel like methodically filing away a mound of papers piled up on the floor of my mind. It's a tall order, but I'll try it.  

Do you have thoughts about things you want to do that won't go away?

Pushing away little nudges at my heart has been the story of my life for many years because of the nature of my work life and pursuit of art. The more I wanted to succeed in these two areas, the more I had to say No to any other thing that might take away my focus.

If I've learned anything about being an artist with a day job, it is this: If I want to say Yes to certain things in my life, I have to say No to way more, even good, fun, delightful things. Doing well in one area means staying focused and cutting out distractions in other areas. I get it. Sometimes begrudgingly, but I get it.

But about six months ago, I made the choice to start walking away from my day job (and its all-consuming nature) to see if there was a way to say Yes to some of the things I had put on the backburner. While it was difficult and scary to move away from that job, I knew in my heart it was time, so it was weirdly also very easy.

Over the past several months, to process all of the things I had put on the backburner, I wrote them down and brainstormed about each one. I ended up filling up an entire legal pad and started another. Apparently there were a lot of things I had pushed to the side.

Here are some examples of what came welling to the surface:

• Write (Blog) consistently* (doing this now yo)
• Take dance lessons
• Teach art classes*
• Buy glass dishes with lids and prepare meals for each week*
• Go on a real vacation*
• Go on so many vacations
• Find an ocean and sit by it for many days*
• Play soccer*
• Learn how to make jewelry (soldering, metalworking)
• Make a body of artwork & court some galleries outside of Knoxville*
• Get together with (fill in the blank with 30+ different people)* 

As you can imagine, a legal pad-sized list is pretty overwhelming, but I keep reminding myself to take it one step at a time. This whole process has taught me two powerful things:

1. I want my day job to allow me to make art and to do as many things on my list as possible. I don't want to take work home with me on nights, weekends, or vacations unless, I am the owner of that business.

2. Finally going after dreamy or lofty goals demystifies them which is necessary to figure out which are worthwhile. The greatest gift of working through my list is realizing the items I thought I wanted to pursue, but in fact, really do not want to do.

I'll give you an example:

As you saw on my list above, I put down Teach Art Classes. I've thought about it for such a long time, BUT... Almost as soon as I sent that message out into the world, I realized I didn't want to do it at all. Surprise!

The thing about dreaming, which is all in your head, is you don't start out thinking about the work. The time. The effort. And if it's a business idea- networking, marketing yourself, coming up with prices, preparation, running errands, keeping the books.

So when a few people expressed interest in the classes, I responded. When I didn't hear anything back, I quietly backpedaled... and then ran in the opposite direction. I was so relieved. A dream I had dreamed for so long: Dead on Arrival. 

It was a little embarrassing, I admit, but the silver lining outweighed that feeling. Now I can check that puppy off my list. Actually, I checked off a whole page, and that's a gift. On to the next thing...

Sidenote: This doesn't mean I will never teach art classes, just not right now.

So after this happened, I was talking to Dale Mackey of The Central Collective about this notion of trying and quitting (gasp). Was it ok that I did this? And she tells me that if she has, what she thinks is a great idea, she will just go for it. If it loses steam or doesn't work out or she loses interest, she can allow herself to quit thinking about it and move on. And that's ok!

I think we all agree that this method may not be appropriate for every aspect of life, but as an entrepreneur, as a human who develops many interests, isn't it fun to think of all the things you can pursue with this mentality? It allows someone like Dale to dream uninhibited, which is a beautiful thing because, while some of her ideas don't come through, the ones that do are pretty brilliant, and our community reaps plentifully from her endeavors.

One last story:

There were these beautiful shoes at Style of Civil a few years ago. I had an art show there, and each time I'd go in, I'd stare at them, pick them up, hold them. I couldn't afford them so I wouldn't try them on until the owner said, "Let me get your size. Let's see if they work, and if they don't, you can quit thinking about them."

And so I tried them on. And they were extremely uncomfortable. And it broke the magical spell they had cast on me. I was free! 

(Please click here for poignant illustration).

What a delight to receive from a boutique shoe store owner such sage advice that has helped me live my life better. It's the main reason I'm writing again. Writing has been nagging me for so long and I now have the time and energy to turn toward it and say, "Let's do this. (Please don't embarrass me.)"

So I leave you with these words if something good has been tugging at your heart for a while:

Just try it on** (while also being safe, responsible, and caring for others).

*I have done these things or started the process. Three cheers for Lists!

**Name that movie

... Continued from the previous post...

6. I am most inspired by all of those psychology-ish & autobiographical writers and speakers out there: Brené Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert, Ann Lamott, Cheryl Strayed, Brennan Manning.

It's a common trend these days to talk about your story and apply it universally to help and assist a broad audience. And I do think these writers have profoundly helped others by telling their stories. 

I guess I wonder if I have anything new to add. I'm also overwhelmed by all the stories and ideas that are out there (I just recently started listening to Podcasts and the sea is OH SO vast!), that may be well known, that I'm not aware of yet, and I will just repeat things that have all ready been said.

This is an interesting fear that also affects other endeavors I have, but I can say, it does not really affect art-making.  When it comes to making art, I just do it. (That's a loaded statement I'd like to expound on later, but...) It's a beautiful thing, while writing feels like unchartered territory for me, and I am an amateur in very chartered territory. And I have to ask myself questions like, "Is chartered* even a word?"

7. When I make a painting, there is a sense of mystery to the deepest meaning that I do not readily share with others. It's not that I'm intentionally hiding something, but where I don't feel the need to divulge every detail of my artwork to others (because I'd like most to infer their own meaning) I'm not so sure I can be that vague with writing. Can I write about my experience or opinions and keep it universal and not so specific?

I wonder this because, while I've been writing my whole life, it has mostly been a practice just for me. I've kept a journal since I was very small (One that has a lock and key. Adorable). But many things happened over the past several months and one of those things was giving up that private practice of journaling. I still long to write though, but since it's no longer for myself, I'm feeling a bit lost. 

8. I don't have a uniform subject matter. Or really any definitive topic I want to discuss. I suppose, like my artwork and how I use social media, it will be about everything. Everyday I become curious about something new, and I think all the time, "If I went back to school, I would study this thing!" Those are the things I want to write about.

On this note- I know I have wild ADD. Not many interests stick. I wish there was grad school for curious people with ADD. I would study and learn everything I could about a different subject each week or month, however long it took until I was ready to move on. Oh my goodness! Heaven on earth! #businessidea

Well, I am sure there are more fears, but next I will share about why I want to write. 

*I discovered both words are used wrong, but I leave them here to bring the point home.

Everyone has them: Stories and memories they fondly tell over and over again. I call these stories people's Glory Days.

It's funny the subjects that fall under my Glory Days category, the things I repetitively recount to friends, family, strangers, as I gaze off into the distance and sigh.

I don't have a lot of fun and wild stories from my past that are appropriate group banter, so many times my Glory Days have more to do with what I have accomplished. I know. Totally lame.

For example, something I bring up a lot is my stint as a writer for the (Award Winning!) Sunsphere is NOT a Wigshop blog. I wear that honor like a bejeweled crown.

I loved writing for that blog, a feeling which mostly had to do with my naivety about writing back then. I did not know what I was doing, and so the joy was great, (ignorance is truly bliss). I felt pretty uninhibited, which I didn't realize would be such a fleeting feeling for me. The fact that people were reading did not scare me away from writing.

But something changed in me once all the writers gradually faded out and the blog died its slow death. I had started my own blog so that I could expand the subjects I wrote about, but all of the sudden, I became stiflingly aware of the audience.

I am an open book by nature and can be pretty direct (direct: a nicer word for abrasive). I have also been on a mission to become a gentler and kinder person as I age. Mix this confusion with trying to better market and sell artwork and you get paralyzing fear. It's a hard line marketing yourself as an artist because who I am is tied to what I create so divorcing the two felt like I was doing myself a disservice. But I didn't know how to write without the fear that I would estrange so many from me.

I think part of my nervousness stemmed from being a wide-eyed observer on social media for so many years. If I've learned anything from Facebook, etc., it is that if you're honest, you will anger exactly 50% of all people. It's a scientific fact that I made up one day after years of observation. And I just didn't want to bring that negativity down on me, even if it meant that 50% of the people loved it. I couldn't do that at the time.

Riding the line of honesty and kindness has felt impossible to me for a long time. In a lot of my experience, if I'm honest I hurt people or open myself up to criticism. I have struggled with depression, self-loathing, anger, many things, and what I realize looking back is that I needed a time to hunker down, a time of self-protection, to figure out what was harmful in my life, to decrease those things, and increase any and all good. 

During this time of mental health hibernation, writing had no place, even though I longed to do it. And in this way and so many others, Adulthood has crushed my dreams. In its weird and mysterious way, too, however, Adulthood has knocked me down to build up something better within me. Wisdom and maturity will stop at nothing to well up in me. The more I blow them off, and I am so good at blowing them off, the harder they come down on me. They will not let me continue to live the way that I have lived, letting so many bad things into my life, being a fool. The hibernation phase was a lot of time embracing how I really felt about things (not hating myself for feeling something negative) while simultaneously licking my wounds. 

Today, the wound-licking is mostly over and I'm beginning to bare my scars with a little pride. I'm still a little shaky about it and don't feel completely ready to start writing again, but I've decided to take the leap anyway. I've grown impatient, and I know I have a harder head and heart (in a good way) to deal with the criticism, if and when it comes. 

So because I love a good list, I will name my fears in order to face them head on:

1. I'm afraid that my writing will decrease my audience as an artist. If people read what I'm thinking, many may discredit what I make, and that's scary because Art is an aspect of my livelihood. But it's also a dumb fear, and I'll tell you why through an example.

I love Justin Bieber, mostly because I love the music he makes. I also follow him on Instagram which I find wildly entertaining. Do I think he hung the moon? Do I think he is perfect? No, I do not. My love runs deep for him because I love the mixture in him of ridiculous fame and talent alongside the fact that he is very human, someone who makes mistakes, and is arrogant, and, I think genuinely, trying to do the best he can in this world.

And in this first point, I have all ready sent many people running for the hills. I will be disdained by those who cannot understand my affinity for JB, and I will have to live with that. I am not sorry.

2. My family/ friends of my past will read what I write and worry. Or wonder why I choose to put these things out there. It would be easier to think only strangers will choose to read out of enjoyment and not because of the worry I instill in them. Worry is a quality I accidentally instill in people that care for me. I can't exactly say why, but y'all, I am fine. I am better than fine. So I hope that people come to listen. You don't have to agree, just listen. If you want.

3. I will want to write about personal things or stories about people I know and will have to stop myself or censor myself. I've never understood how auto-biographical writers do this. It's really what I want to do, but how do you do it without potentially burning major bridges. How do you do it gracefully?

4. I will worry about who is reading and I will let that dictate what I write and fluctuate between self-loathing and arrogance, which is my MO. 

5. I will not be able to break away from my perfectionist tendencies. This post alone has taken a few hours because I edit and add and edit and add. I don't have that kind of time. How can I write better faster? Practice, I suppose.

Let the practicing begin.

Last weekend, Big Ears, and driving around town, Company has hit the radio waves.