I Have a Boyfriend!

OK, I know for a fact that two people who read the title absolutely flipped out.  My mom is not one of them, as she knows that I know that if I had a boyfriend, he would be missing a limb before you you could finish reading this blog post.  I'm kidding about the boyfriend.  I'm very single.  Kind of.  It has nothing to do with a human being.  Read on. 

I read a fascinating blog post by an opera singer.  He talked about how, as an artist, he must be beaten up sometimes.  His work must be undervalued, all so he never stops learning and improving.

I also read an article on "Artist's Depression".  How many artists, whether they be writers, musicians, or workers in the visual arts, tend to place everything into their art, and when it doesn't go well, they are thrown into a depression.

I don't get this, and when I say that, I am talking about the fact that I don't get this depression, not that I don't understand it.  I completely understand the feeling of wondering whether your work is any good or not, wondering if you are fooling yourself into thinking it's half-decent.  You wonder sometimes if you've been delusional.  You think something is fantastic in the morning, and you wake up in the middle of the night, slapping your forehead, and thinking, "Who the heck played that crap?  Did I seriously think that was good?"  I have done this before competitions, and sometimes, just when I'm into my art.  Namely, piano.

Most people, especially people my age, do not understand this.  They do not understand when you're concerned about how it is going.  They do not understand passion for an art, and dedication to it.  Artists are very passionate people.  Often, they are lonely.

I would imagine that it is hard for artists to be married to non-artists.  Non-artists, say, office workers, are generally less happy with their work, and less dedicated.  Artists love their work.  More accurately, they have a love/hate relationship with their work.  Take my tumultuous relationship with the piano at the moment.

Let's just be weird for a moment and think of the piano as my boyfriend.  Bear with me.

My boyfriend is always there for me.  And my boyfriend doesn't mind if I take my stress out on him.  However, he is not particularly sympathetic, and is not a great listener.  He has selective hearing.  Sometimes, when I'm with him, he doesn't want to cooperate with what I want to do.  If I want to play softly, he doesn't always agree.  However, I keep going back to him, because I love him, and when we're passionate and in love, life is good.  He goes with me.  He's rather bipolar, and we have our ups and downs, but I know that he's always going to be there, whether he wants to be or not.  Sometimes, we mix perfectly, and we are head-over-heels in love.  But sometimes, we fight, and things get ugly.  We might get separated for a time, but I always go back and we make things up.

OK, shake the creepiness off.  But do you see?  Many artists are married to their art, and that relationship is exactly the kind they have.  As freaky as this sounds, I kind of think of piano as my temporary boyfriend for now.  Next time someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, I might just tell them, "Yeah, his name is Samick."  Not really.  I wouldn't do that.

Right now, I love my piano.  It's treating me well.

I would make a guess that more artists stay married more than non-artists.  They learn what dedication is.  They learn that relationships take work.  I'm learning this early on.

My piano is my boyfriend.