The Artists Life - The Game Of Life

   Who thought a classic board game that's been around (the modern versions anyways) since the early 1960's would be the source of this weeks blog? Our two oldest grandchildren expressed a deep interest for the game, so my husband Dave went to the local big-box and purchased the newest version of The Game Of Life for a mere $15 including tax. During the weekly grand-kiddo visit, we engaged in a wild, laughter-filled, sometimes stressed out, three hour jaunt into this board game. First off, this is not the same version I played as a child, nor even the one we played when our kids were young - not by a long shot. And what on earth does this have to do with art or being an artist?

   While some aspects were similar, like choosing our careers, numerous things were different. I was totally bummed that the profession of "Artist" was no longer available. What?? So, I became a doctor with a 130,000 dollar salary each pay day. Okay - not bad. For some reason, my husband Dave was a secret agent. Apparently, you now go to college for this. He also had a hot pink car, so he must sold Mary Kay products as a part-time job while in school. My grandson was an actor, until he got fired for bringing his cat to work, then became a singer. My granddaughter was a dancer, but also got fired (for sleeping on the job) and then became a professional softball player. Did you also know that when a player gets married, you have the option of choosing a same-sex or opposite-sex partner? Welcome to 2018.

   Throughout the game, we all went on vacations, paid for various things (besides houses and kids), but also did some pretty funky ventures. For example, my husband purchased a snail farm for $50,000, and I made $90,000 for cooking everyone's favorite pancakes without screwing them up. And this from a person who hates to cook. Glad it was worth ninety large for me. Another "venture" I had to participate in was telling jokes so an opponent would laugh. I found that I was seriously out of touch with funny jokes that I could tell an 11-year old and make her laugh. Between the cooking and the panic of not knowing any humorous bylines, I got seriously stressed. On the other side of the coin, I enjoyed a trip to France, made $50,000 from selling flowers from my garden and the home I purchased a "luxury" house. These turns during the game made me feel good.

   I realized something towards the end of the game - it really tapped into my likes and dislikes. My dreams as well as my fears. Either that, or I was being the artist that I am and taking this way too seriously and emotionally. But, as a professor once said, those last two attributes are what make you a good artist. My question is - why does life, the real thing or a family board game - have to be stressful, emotional, and competitive? Perhaps if it wasn't, and life was always massively easy and complacent, it would boring as fuck.

   The game ends when every player retires, sells all their assets, (including any and all houses, playing cards, and even the children!!) and then we all count up our funds. As usual, the person with the most money "wins". A deciding factor for a game, yes. But in real life, no. After the game concluded, my grandson inquired about my latest oil paintings I had completed and were in the process of drying. He asked what was the most money I had ever made form one of my paintings. I responded that to date, I sold a 24"x30" abstract for $1,850 dollars and one of my recent 8"x10" works (that was still drying) sold for $250 dollars this week. He was very surprised. This is one of the big differences between real life and a game. That dollar figure was very real. As a result, I told him I have to take my art very seriously. It's my "true and real" career. It's all fun to toss around play paper money that is supposedly worth $100,000 dollars, and basically engage in fantasy, but real life isn't like that. Lots of victories and challenges. Ups and downs.

   Painting is my life  - and while it's fun, it's also not a game.

   Until nest time,
   Jill