dawn

I have some free time now, with the not working and all. I’ve been sorting through the boxes and boxes of “things” that have followed me. Diaries, photos, love letters. The memorabilia of a lifetime.

My sketchbooks are there. I used to draw & sculpt. I was pretty good, got a few awards and as a high school art major I’d thought about going into commercial art. I don’t know why I stopped, why it got dropped by the wayside. I can say it was the drugs and the drinking, but at this point in my life I know that the drugs and the drinking were there to disguise the fear. I didn’t even try to make my way as an artist because I was afraid of the competition, afraid to try.

I rushed to get out of high school, skipping my SATs and nixing any chance of going directly to a four year college. Eventually I entered Nassau Community College as acting major — my sole goal to become a regular guest on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. But actually being on stage felt risky, I abandoned that dream for the safety of a beer and of working backstage.

“You didn’t really have any talent for that,” Big Edie said recently, “but you were a great prop person.” I was. I am. I’m terrific at supporting other people’s creative efforts. I was made for backstage.

I went on to develop that fear of exposure, that co-dependent talent for support into an thriving career as the invisible woman. I’ve stayed in media and entertainment, but I’ve stayed safe. I’ve been a stage manager, follow spot light operator, casting director, manager.

The move from stage to print was simply more of the same. I wrote in college, getting validation and accolades but instead of taking a risk, I stepped back and once again offered my assistance. My interview selling point has always “I can make you look good, really good.”

Instead of creating art, I worked in a position where I bought art.
Instead of acting in plays, I did props, wardrobe, schedules, lights.
Instead of writing, I stepped into the shoes of a production manager.
Instead of taking a creative risk, I played it safe.

Someone called the other day, they were in the music studio producing a new, hot talent from England. “She needs NY management, I know you’re not working. You’re perfect for this. We should do this together,” he said.

“Sorry, but I’m not creative support for other people anymore. I can’t do that anymore. I can only be creative support for myself right now. But thank you.” I didn’t expect to say that, I don’t know where those words came from, but that’s what I said.

And right then, I knew. My angel is an artist.