The Other Job

A martial arts instructor once asked me: “Do you make a living as an artist? I answered: “I make a living as an artist but don’t make any money from it.” This was before I had sales. I wasn’t trying to be all Zen clever or anything. That was how things stood at the time. If Sensei Hatashita posed the question now, I’d respond: “I make my living as an artist, but only make a little money from it.”



Library technician. Piano teacher. Massage therapist. Postal worker, carpenter, drug dealer, sales clerk, waitress, courier, minister– the list goes on. It is a fact: being an artist is a fiscal challenge. Many of us supplement our income teaching art at institutions or community centres. We hold private classes in our studios, work in art stores or become gallery assistants to generate revenue we don’t make from our work. Some find employment in other industries where the pay is better, a schedule more conducive, the company has health plans, it was an original career choice, there was no choice– our families needed to eat. How artists support themselves and others aside from their art, provides resources and dilemmas. At the other job, we may or may not be able to sustain a lifeline to the artist we truly are– whatever that means to each of us. What issues emerge when we toil elsewhere? How do we preserve our creative impulse when the job is menial, demanding, or stressful? What about work environments that are toxic on more than one level? The answers, if any, depend on what the other job entails.


Most artists I know, regard teaching as an extension of their work and enjoy it. The task may overwhelming, the students too many– in particular at a college or art school, but facilitating others towards their creative potential brings satisfaction. What some dislike is the bureaucracy and abysmal politics endemic to institutions. But then, a few also discover they’re actually quite competent in a managerial capacity.


Those of us positioned in non-arts related fields, deal with the usual problems found in any job, as well as the implications in reference to our craft. Money is associated with something other than what we do as artists. (I’m always surprised to sell; never expect it). Time spent behind a desk, on a construction site or in a factory, is time we’d rather devote to art. Boredom and monotony lures brain rot. Bodies that perform repetitious duties: lifting, pushing, rushing around, wear down as we age; our health a distraction when we try to concentrate on creative projects. A major issue concerns the need to leave the job at work so that it doesn’t follow us home or into the studio. Personality clashes and tensions between co-workers, labour/management disputes, difficult clients or customers– some artists struggle to prevent the residue of a work atmosphere from invading their sensitivity. We try to paint, sculpt, film, etc., but the mind replays upsetting incidents or problems, stalking us from work. What a devil’s bargain: another job finances our commitment to art, but siphons energy; becomes the very thing that limits our engagement with it.


Artists unable to dedicate themselves to art full-time, need a strategy to function both at the other job, and still create in the studio. Clearly this hinges on whether that job is full or part-time, and if the artist has dependants. I have no authority to speak for those who work full-time and/or support families. In my household, it’s just me and the cat and even that’s a struggle– more as I age. I can’t imagine juggling a job, taking care of others, yet still try to paint; to have to consider the heartfelt prospect of delaying one’s dream until children are grown, or a block of time opens up– holidays, vacation, retirement– especially if the artist is a single parent. It’s an article others more qualified will have to write. During college one teacher advised me to marry a rich man to support me so I could make art. I chuckled then. After thirty years of working to survive as a single, woman artist, I really don’t think she was kidding.


How can artists preserve their sanity and well-being until they get to the studio? Sleep is my major recommendation. Can’t praise enough, the rehabilitation of a good night’s rest. Immersion in the talents of other artists from all disciplines; good books, music, theatre etc., validates the contribution of art (and therefore our own) and serve as guides, companions of the soul when we are exhausted, stressed or need encouragement. Cultural events after work, helps some artists to unwind, and contrast a rough day with the familiarity of an opening, poetry reading or concert– if an artist doesn’t need to get home immediately. If it reinforces an artist’s psyche, I fully endorse psychotherapy. Journal writing helps to process, detoxify, and restore inner balance. Healthy food, exercise, meditation, alternative medicine, a spiritual practice– I’ve benefitted from all these tenets of self-care. But honestly? After a hard day, often I grope for the remote or fumble through a stack of fantasy/sci-fi novels on my night table.


However, the other job isn’t purely a necessary evil. A blend of modest lifestyle, careful budget and decent wage allows me to subsist on part-time income alone. Now that mandatory retirement has been...retired, nobody can get rid of unionized me, if I still need my job right up until I truly expire. It takes time to recover from a bad week, but if I get to paint for even one day, it vanishes memories of the previous week by the time I resume my next set of shifts. Some artists scrabble for less. The resources available at my university library workplace are invaluable to any artist. I’ve freely xeroxed and downloaded images and information for my own research needs. Patrons and colleagues have purchased my work when I mounted a show in the display area. Through several bouts of personal upheaval and professional quandary, this job was often the only stable factor in my life.


Once (much younger then), I arrived for the start of my evening shift after painting for six hours. I mentioned to the girl I relieved, that it was also the first time I’d spoken all day. “Wow,” she said, “that’s a long time to be by yourself.” The other job offers those artists prone to seclusion, a chance to develop and practice social skills. It brings the world back into our lives, reconnects us with humanity. I’ve discovered library staff who like to paint for a hobby. There are elements I do appreciate about work separate from art. All that intense striving directed on my career can relax. Despite the traffic at our public service desk, I enjoy the exchange of good will from patrons thankful for my assistance. Indeed compared to the hermetic seal placed around my art space, at the other job, I focus on others instead of myself and value that equilibrium. There’s another odd, flip-side confirmation as well. When it becomes onerous, the job is truly part-time; my co-workers have to put up with it all week. I’m grateful the rich, inner life of the artist is my real purpose.