So…What Do You Do?

Apr 24

We’ve all been there. You meet someone new, polite conversation begins, and then the question arrives:
“So, what do you do?”

These days, I can just about manage to say, without tripping over the words, “I’m an artist.”
It’s taken me a while to get there, I’ll admit. Saying it out loud once felt oddly vulnerable — as though I needed to justify it, explain it, soften it somehow. Now I say it more easily, though the response is often the same:

“Oh, how lovely — you must spend all day painting.”

And that’s usually the moment I have to stop myself from smiling too broadly.

If only.

Yes, there are those blissful days when I’m completely absorbed in the work — brushes moving instinctively, layers building, time slipping quietly past. Or days spent outdoors, walking the coast or marsh, gathering inspiration from shifting light and weather. But even then, there’s often a small practical voice in the background: That would make a good photo. Make a note of that for the newsletter. Don’t forget to record this.

Because being an artist isn’t just about painting. It’s also about everything that surrounds it - especially when exhibitions and open studios loom large….

If I had to write a job description, it might look something like this:

Artist
Accountant
Photographer (and occasional videographer)
Social media manager
PR and marketing department
Packer, shipper, and stock controller
Secretary, scheduler, and list-maker
Website updater and tech support
Morale officer (an important role on certain days)

Some days it can feel like spinning plates — moving between admin, emails, packaging, planning, posting, and trying to hold space for creativity in between. The studio time can end up threaded through the gaps, rather than being the whole day.

And yet, even within the busyness, there are those quiet moments. The ones where the paint settles just right, where a wash blooms unexpectedly, or where a mark suggests the beginning of something new. Those small, absorbing moments bring everything back into focus.

They’re a reminder that all the other roles — the practical, necessary, sometimes slightly chaotic ones — exist to support that central act of making.

And when someone asks, “So, what do you do?”
The simplest answer is still the truest.

I’m an artist.