One Job Could Change My Life


One Job Could Change My Life

It’s not easy to choose a path in art;
They tell you that you cannot live,
They tell you that you cannot see,
That in the end you won’t withstand.
The corporate world you will be.
Why pay to learn a hobby,
That does not fit within society.
Where can one go with a paintbrush,
When an app can do the same.
Yet there you go against the grain,
A university with art and design,
Professors hardened by days seen.
Each week another skill you learn,
Another thirty some hours you spend,
To gain one ten minute critique.
Trying to protect yourself,
You try to hold yourself up by the wrists,
You find that cheapest website ticket,
Printing calling cards by hand.
By day there’s three hour studios,
In which you learn to emulate,
Yet are suggested to find your own style.
Sometimes you can’t shake the feeling,
That you’re only drowning in a shadow.
Sitting at the art advising office,
Piles of magazines out before you.
They show successful art entrepreneurs,
That pay other artists to make their ideas.
Your advisor calls out your name,
You sit at a desk of donated drawings;
Cannot do it anymore are the words,
Yet she has no advice for you,
Walk back to the dorm in a haze.
Passing buildings you turn to grimace,
Business job calls this weekend,
Job fair for engineering and marketing,
Communications opportunities open,
You begin to know everyone was right.
Despite the desperate nights on craigslist,
No one is seeking artists to exhibit,
Painting after painting for a five dollar sale,
Museums want that social media intern,
Not someone to learn to curate.
First Fridays in Phoenix are lively,
Yet they cloak an undercurrent of stress,
As artists realize they won’t make rent.
They have that one piece that speaks,
A public piece to make a poor town bright,
Yet it is sold for scraps to feed the cats.
Everyone pretends there is no need for art,
That a career in that field is absurd,
Yet the businesses want creativity,
The entrepreneurs need a fresh taste,
Though they look for a marketing wiz.
Tired eyes of tired generations,
Abstract art a savior of decoration,
Yet no one hires an artist,
No one hires the very people that in fact,
Know how to make somewhere,
A place that others can belong.
One job could change a life,
Bring color upon blank walls,
Give outlets to those in bad places,
Speak messages to millions,
That is why I would rather say,
One Job Could Change Your Life


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