Navigating the End of My Sabbatical
OH SNAP...it is over already?!
So here we are, the end of my sabbatical, or is it? Back in April, I penned my hopes that this year away would illuminate the path back to creating art and reveal the secrets of navigating my business without losing myself in the process.
Now, as the year concludes, you might expect a grand revelation, a triumphant declaration that I've figured it all out. Well, hold on to your hats because, alas, I don't have one. No epiphany in sight, unless, of course, tomorrow delivers a mind-blowing revelation on the last day of the year. But let's be real, that's not very likely, is it?
Yet, my lack of a dazzling answer doesn't worry me—not about my art or my art business, at least. What does concern me is the state of the world at large, to a degree that it almost paralyzes me. But that's a different topic, one I'm grappling with without succumbing to hopelessness and fear.
What this sabbatical has given me in terms of my art life is, in a word, "less worry." It turns out that detouring from my art to immerse myself in volunteer work with the Jersey City Landmarks Conservancy was one of the best decisions I've made. Working on Oral History Projects with my friends Chelsea and Mandy was profound—it connected me with people in the city, fostering both concern for the world's future and a glimmer of hope. Conversations with the elderly, who've weathered tumultuous times, make you believe that overcoming challenges is within our grasp.
This journey also forged invaluable connections with like-minded individuals. It reminded me that finding common ground can bridge differences, and working for local causes you believe in is both draining and immensely rewarding. Taking classes at NYU on Historic Preservation added another piece to the puzzle—teaching me how to conduct research and think about community outreach.
Amid all this, I spent considerable time writing my book on Jersey City History, using our house as the narrator. The research for the house intertwined with my other endeavors—the oral history projects, social media for the conservancy, and assignments for NYU, surprisingly led to an incredible opportunity to exhibit at the Museum of Jersey City History. A dream come true that sparked a burst of creativity.
With no expectations for the exhibition, it turned out to be a sabbatical gift beyond my imagination. It wasn't about shouting, "Look at me!", but rather a lift from an unexpected source. The exhibition not only boosted my confidence in my art and my skills but also generated more interest in my artwork, resulting in sales and a promising workshop gig for 2024.
The workshop, a departure from my usual endeavors, excites me. It might not sustain me for the entire year, but it feels like a step toward discovering how to thrive as an artist. So, my word for 2024 is "Confidence." Confidence in my artistic direction, in the payoff for my hard work and evolving skills. Confidence in a small group finding joy in my art, in completing the book, and in navigating the path to publishing it. Perhaps even confidence that the world can glean lessons from stories and history, propelling us toward a peaceful, progressive, and sustainable future.
And as I reflect on this journey, I am deeply thankful for my readers. Your support, in various forms, has meant the world to me. Wishing each and every one of you a wonderful and happy New Year in 2024.
Nat
Interesting isn't it that we never seem to get what we want, but we do get what we need? There's a song here... ;)
I cannot wait to see where all this takes you!
It does feel as if the year has been less illuminating than hoped, as if it is still trying to load like a slow computer program. It is all part of life unfolding I guess even if it doesn’t makes things clearer.