Oh gods who may or may not exist, I pass no judgement, and Muse who probably does exist somewhere in my fevered brain, grant me strength.
Great Lord of Acrylics and Lady of Watercolor, Pussiant Potentate of Pastels and Pigments, gods of graphite and colored pencil, He Who Is Concerned With Oil Paints and all those guys who deal with 3-D stuff, and not forgetting Our Lady of Photoshop and Painter, hear my prayer.
Grant me the forebearance not to scream when my Inbox clutters with notes saying “You charge how much? I’m in the wrong business!” Grant me to the insight to know that they probably don’t mean anything hostile by it, and the confidence to write them off as Philistines, rather than succumb to neurosis and lower my prices out of low self-esteem. Above all, grant me the strength not to assault friends, family, and random passers-by by screaming “Art is hard, damnit! We don’t just pull this shit outta the air, you know! IT TAKES WORK!”
Because my friends already know it, since I have beaten it into them. My colleagues know it because they work just as hard as I do. My family knows it because some of them are artists too, and if any of them don’t by now, they’re lost causes anyhow. Grant me the wisdom to know that these are tired complaints that do not bear rehashing, and the intestinal fortitude not to rehash them anyway to make myself feel better.
From this, and all other demons of artist’s block, system crashes, and cat hair in the gesso, great art gods, deliver us.