By Letty Bassart

In a country that values art and not artists, things can be awkward.  I often hear artists describe efforts in entrepreneurship, ways in which they have folded their artistic discipline into the system.  All the obvious ones apply, dance and teaching, visual art and design/graphics, music and technology, etc.

It’s funny the way artists get to capitalize on being “creative”, as there have been times when I have found artists to be the exact opposite.  But there I go, talking as if I don’t like artists.

Being one myself, I often struggle with the opposite question, how do you convince the arts community to look around, to listen and see?

With movement and text as the constant filter, I have been a hospice nurse, an epidemiologist, a middle school science teacher, a chemistry teacher, a manager, web page designer, and director.   In retrospect they all appear similar, areas that incorporate human experience, content, and process.

In my work at Arts for Learning/Miami, we have described the artistic process as one that begins with an initial spark, and then consists of researching, creating, refining, presenting, and reflecting.   For me this process is tested again and again in all arenas.   Each one filled with its tangible set of qualities.  My own strength, the telling details applied to the plot; the ability to expand and contract from one sentence to the next.

The realities are our own of course, and we can be guided and misguided by perceptions.  Last week I switched my phone over to Spanish and it does not read snooze, instead it reads postpone.  No euphemisms here; I have not been able to get extra sleep in nine-minute increments since.

Shortly thereafter, I received an e-mail from Red Envelope reading “the benefits of procrastination.” And here I am, forced to ask myself why we put things off, prolong them, and say things to ourselves like stay a little longer.  As tears roll onto the keyboard, I recognize that there are moments so sweet and familiar we wish they would never end.