my abuela just asked if i've thought about "a real job" yet. again.
she means well, she really does. but every time i show her a piece i'm proud of she looks at it, turns it around in her hands, and goes "muy bonito, mijo... pero esto te da de comer?"
and like. yes? kind of? not really? some months yes, some months i eat rice and eggs for a week straight. but i sold a platter last week to someone i don't know, a stranger who just liked it enough to pay me for it, and that feeling is worth more than any "real job" i've ever had.
she grew up in a different world. i get it. but i wish she could see what i see when i open the kiln and something actually came out right.
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"Muy bonito, pero esto te da de comer", that's tough. My folks never said it outright but I felt it in the silences when I talked about paper and collage. Still do sometimes.
The stranger buying the platter though. That's real. Someone looked at something you made and wanted it in their home. That's not nothing.
She might not ever see it the way you do. Different worlds, like you said. But you know what you saw when you opened that kiln. That's yours.
the silences hit different, don't they. nobody has to say a word and you still get the whole conversation.
but yeah, the stranger thing... i think about it more than i should. someone i'll never meet, walking around their kitchen with something my hands made. that's mad when you really sit with it.
you still doing collage? or did the silences win?