I recently had this interaction while at a gallery exhibition, at which I was the featured artist.
“I love your artwork.” beamed a patron, coming up to shake my hand.
“Thank you.” I replied.
“Are you still in school?”
“No.” I laughed, “I’ve graduated already.”
“Oh. Are you going to college?”
“...I,- no,” I stuttered,” I graduated already. Ten years ago. From the U.”
“Ah, good for you! What did you study?”
This is where I start to rethink my life choices.
“...um. Art.”
“Oh! Well, look at you!” my questioner smiled and patted me on the shoulder encouragingly, “So, what is it you do?”
“...This?” I wondered out loud.
“This?” my questioner inquired politely, “You mean, you actually do art?”
I glanced around at my art hanging on the walls, beseeching it to speak up and help me with this ego-puncturing conversation.
“What I mean is,” clarified the arts patron, “how do you pay your bills?”
“...I bring my art to galleries, and people buy it.”
“Yes, of course! But what do you do the rest of the time?”
“Art.”
My questioner was getting frustrated by my apparent lack of understanding. He sought for a way to ask the question so my tiny brain would comprehend.
“What occupation is listed on your taxes?”
“Artist.”
“So you’re a teacher?”
“No.”
“But… who pays you?”
“The people who buy my art.”
He went silent for a moment, considering me.
“Are you married?” he asked.
I groaned inwardly, “Yes.”
“And your husband is okay with this?” he gestured to my art on the walls as though they were evidence of a mild scandal.
I stared at him, nonplussed.
“What I mean is,” he continued delicately, sensing my offence, “he doesn’t mind that you’re an artist?”
I raised my eyebrows and said nothing, entirely unsure how to handle this.
The questioner smiled politely and waited for me to respond.
“...I was an artist before we started dating.”
“Oh of course. But I mean he doesn’t have a problem with supporting you?”
“You know what, I think I need some more wine. I’m gonna go grab that.”
If you think that isn't a satisfying ending, you are absolutely right. I'm not entirely sure what my witty retort should have been.
