Updated: May 8
The artist imagines people who work normal hours in a normal kind of job, where they have a place to go every day and tasks to do and a team and meetings and a dress code and a boss and someone (or maybe even a group of people) telling them the sorts of things they'd like to see from them at the end of the day/week/month/year. She wonders what that feels like, and if it feels kind of like an extension of school or university. Having an alarm set early every morning, having the "end of the day" feeling, the Friday night take-outs. Having such routine. It's a cliché to say that being an artist is kind of lonely. She always imagines that to mean "yeah, duh, you're sat there on your own in a studio all day" (or on your laptop writing or doing whatever you do - but either way very much *alone*). But she thinks that what that phrase really means is this: The way of the artist is separate from the bulk of society. No structure, managerial pressure, feeling of relief when you wake up and realise it's Saturday. No shared knowledge of what Monday morning feels like. No sense of being a cog in a big machine. It's as though society inhales and exhales in unison, and for those that aren't part of it, that rhythm feels familiar, powerful, and very distant.