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Okay, I admit it...I love to paint on wood.  The smooth birch panels I have been painting on for the past year or so have become a favorite.  They are perfect for all my experimental work, as well as the traditional lowcountry pieces I am well known for.  The small panels are easy to ship, reasonably priced, and can be displayed in just about any small space.  After I add a couple of coats of gloss varnish, they glow.  In "Waiting on the Tide", the grain of the panel - subtle beneath the thin acrylic - is brought out even more by the varnish layers.  A quick wash of neutral color around the sides, and this piece is ready to go southward to Charleston/Mount Pleasant, SC. 

In the past year, the sale of these small works have become "bread and butter" income.  Fun to create, they capture a moment in time spent on the water, or relaxing in the shade of live oaks, looking across the marsh at a summer.  My clients love the "collectibility" of each original work.  Charleston tourists take them home as reminders of their visit to the Holy City.  Decorators use them to fill in spaces on shelves and niches.  While I still paint large gallery pieces, these small jewel pieces have become essential in my inventory.  And did I say, I love to paint on wood?!

In a week, my work will be displayed in a spring group show about 350 miles away from my home.  I am an established artist in the gallery, and will have plenty of new, freshly painted work on display.  It typically is a time when I can meet my collectors, recruit commissions, and interact with other artists.  I have begun to enjoy these events, and my early anxieties and self-consciousness have given way to security in my abilities, and joy in sharing my gift.

As I have shared before, my husband has cancer, and we have only just returned from his first successful surgery.  We are about halfway through his treatment, and still have a way in the journey, but we are encouraged, and he is responding well to his treatment.  He is still very frail, and while we are working toward his independence in taking complete care of himself, it is a future goal at this time.  I am not far away from his side.

Therein lies the rub -- I have a show 350 miles away and a husband that very much needs my attention.  What to do? Travel to the show? I have a place to stay, even if I decide at the last minute.  The gallery is very understanding and supports my decision either way. We have a week of improvement and learning ahead.  It is possible, maybe not likely, but at least a chance.  Maybe I should go down and drive back in the same day?

As this train of thought goes through my mind and onto the computer page, I can see my old foe, FOMO (Fear of Missing Out).  It cannot tempt me into running myself ragged for fear of missing something.  I've played this game before, and fallen for this before.  Now, I have too much at stake to indulge my fear.  I know my artwork sells well, and it is appreciated by the art collectors who visit the gallery.  My art is selling almost every day  --- while I am 350 miles away.  I also have someone very dear to me, who depends on me to help him through an invasive surgery and into recovery.  The choice becomes clearer and clearer.

My art life defines who I really am.  I find my purpose and peace in creating artwork that I can share (and sell).  I play many roles, but my art is truly where I find my personal, just me, justification.  I also have a family, with roles as a spouse, a parent and grandparent, daughter and sister.  I have a heart, and a circle of much loved souls who support me and ask for my support in return. 

The solution is clear. The answer is to stay home and nurse my much loved husband.  It's just not right to leave.  My art is there in my stead. The gallery manager is an excellent representative of my work, and takes pride in selling it.  And there will be other shows.  Sometimes timing IS everything. My disappointment is overshadowed by the knowledge  that I did the right thing, and my stress level immediately lowers.  A decision has been reached and FOMO is defeated.  This time.