Lessons In Time — Time Management for the Working Artist

Time has always been a source of anxiety for me. I am one of those people who leave for the airport three hours too early, rushing the whole time, weaving in and out of traffic, absolutely certain I am just one unforeseen obstacle away from missing my flight — only to sit in the terminal for two and a half hours before boarding. I absolutely hate being late, so much so that I will berate everyone that I perceive is holding me up. So it goes without saying that to me, 2021 flew by too quickly and that, up until Thanksgiving weekend, I was feeling truly irritated and anxious that I had been less productive than I could have been — at least in terms of the number of paintings I produced.

That is until my facebook friend Joseph McGurl, master of Contemporary American Luminism, took the time to comment on my recent self-depreciating rant about time and how it terrorizes me, and recommend that I read 4000 Weeks — Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman. 

When I first started painting in March of 2012, each painting had a specific purpose in helping me practice or master a painting technique. I wanted to understand Zorn’s Pallette, so I painted a few pieces using the Zorn limited paint color structure. I wanted to be intentional with my edges, so I painted a few where I allowed drawing and color to take the back seat and focused on each and every edge, experimenting with different tools. Tackling the fundamentals in this way was fun, and it allowed me to crank out around 10 large paintings each year because I didn’t waste a minute concerning myself with the higher understandings of concept, narrative, atmosphere, space, gravity, or even with what genre I may be painting in. I was on a mission to master this medium, not yet coming into my own regarding who I am artistically, what I had to say, or why I wanted to say it to the world. 

Maybe it was the pandemic and the ensuing immediate, abrupt shifts — some bone rattling — that was the catalyst for my deeper disorientation and my total frustration with time lately. Like every other person on the planet, the structures of how I spent my time completely changed in 2020. Every workshop I had been scheduled to teach, from Australia to the Netherlands, was wiped off the calendar. My focus went from making my own dreams come true, to keeping my family safe. The worry I cultivated for my first-responder husband engulfed me. I began to spend hours watching the news and internet, searching for every possible insight that might help me outsmart the virus, broken up only by the frenzied bleaching of the exterior of every object that came into our home. (Realizing that millions of people still do not have access to the vaccines, I am so thankful to be out of panic-mode and easing back into concerning myself with making dreams come true again, for myself and my students. Too many others are still in panic mode with no end in sight.)

Yes, I can blame COVID, But I have always been in a war with the clock and I even had the illusion that I was winning. Afterall, I started oil painting at the ripe age of 38, but within just three years, my work was being internationally recognized and collected. Peers who have painted for 40 years say my progress was meteoric and have asked over and over how I came to this level of understanding so quickly. The fact is, I hauled ass. I ran like a bat out of hell and burnt my candle, Adam’s candle, even the kids’ candles at both ends, 24/7. I think COVID saved me from a heart attack or worse. But the benefits of forced reevaluation of my priorities are more than just in my physical health. I know they are shaping my work and those higher understandings I spoke of a bit ago. Instead of cranking out a large painting in 3 to 9 days, I’m taking all of three months. I literally no longer care! A masterpiece takes as long as it takes. And what more, if I miss my flight...I’ll buy another ticket...and I’ll be late. It may seem that I have been hijacked by some lazy, late, layabout cult bent on creating a world of careless slugs with no motivation and that this new attitude is going to lead to the crumbling of my hard-earned place in the world — but the opposite is true. I know now I will give the best of myself to all that I love doing and all who I care about, and enjoy the ride, sheerly by knowing my priorities and investing in them. This perspective is already saving me more than time. It is saving my body and mind from so much unnecessary stress. 

I’ll let you read Oliver Burkeman’s book yourself, you can do it in less than a day. I won’t reiterate all of his wisdom here, there isn’t enough time (lol). But I will say that I completely recognize the true measure of myself in the vast ribbons of time and I am thankful for the flicker of existence I am experiencing now. To say my outlook has changed, that I have a new appreciation for time and what my purpose is, is the single biggest understatement I’ve made, and from someone as prone to hyperbole as myself, it is truly astonishing what an understatement that is. I am so excited to share my new insights with my students and have already started giving away the same gift Joseph gave me: Read 4000 Weeks! 

I don't want to be coy though or make you believe I am holding back. If you are looking for practical lessons in time management for the working artist, I’ll leave you with this simple modus vivendi, i.e., way of living: 

Imagine in an instant you have lost everyone and everything you know and love. You are alone and in darkness. Now, you have 10 seconds to list anything, person, place, relationship, etc. that you can magically have back. You now have your priorities and your purpose. Now, spend your precious, limited, and miraculous remaining weeks cultivating those people, relationships and things.  

If I live to age 80, I have 1,716 weeks left. That’s not promised time, just a beautiful amount to aim for and more than so many get. I’m going to spend them exactly as I choose. 

Tina, enjoying a day at Silver

Dollar City with her family.