Boxes

Most of the time I'm glad I get to work in a library. It brings stability and structure to an artist's life. Library work is a little anchor dug in, that helps me manage the rest of my life. I'm not any better organized, but I can separate out logic and illogic from each other. Even the touch of books is interesting: the covers, papers, and other people's great illustrations! And of course all those words. Maybe it's like sending the adult to work and then the kid can play with a camera or pencil or idea. Sometimes I play at snapping interesting photos before we open or sketching intriguing people or poses on scraps of paper at the desk. It's fun to describe someone as they walk through the lobby, noting things like clanky chains, exotic hair: all the ways people are interesting.

But the work can drain the heart out too. Some job I didn't do well enough (for me) or maybe good intentions that vanished into office politics. The structure of organizations like mine puzzles me sometimes. "Policy" can drain all the color and liveliness from a job, and regulate the creative spark so closely folks can barely breathe. People start feeling wingless and rooted to the ground. Today I rushed home to pour several pages of words onto a notebook, and then drew these two sketches. I tried to show my abstract feelings with the bird drawing, but then the other one, the figure in the box came. She probably comes closer to the truth.