Finding Home

It’s a beautiful morning in Austin, TX. Today, I took the time to run to my favorite cafe near by since we ran out of coffee in the house two days ago, and this pregnant lady can’t function without her coffee. The sun is shining and I’m greeted by many smiling faces walking past me on the street. It’s so refreshing to hear “good morning” and seeing happy families walk along the path, especially since we’ve been in a pandemic for the past 2 years. Its wonderful to see that kind humanity still exists.

I’ve lived in Austin since 2019, when my husband and I purchased our first home. Though, it was quite the journey to get to here. The house we purchased had been abandoned for 5 years and was on the verge of foreclosure. Luckily, my husband is in real estate so he was able to find this property and make a good deal on it using all the tools he had at his disposal. After we gutted the house and went through all of the previous owners belongings and furniture that were damaged by mouse feces and other animals, we flipped the property and decided to make it our “homestead.”

At first, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. I’m from a ranch outside a very small Texas town and have always been intimidated and uncomfortable in the city. I have always been surrounded by hills and valleys, with horses and other livestock roaming the open pastures. I loved the wide open spaces and now my husband (fiance at the time) was asking me to move into a home in the middle of a bustling neighborhood on the north side of Austin, just minutes from the Domain. Peace and quite is not exactly something you’d find here with the constant passing of cars and sirens.

During this time, I was also working on finishing my college degree, so I was driving a good hour to and from the house to finish my last semester. My dumb self also decided to take three studio classes on top of my thesis and other exiting courses. Needless to say, it was incredibly stressful. So, from time to time, I run home to mom and dad to get that hill country fresh air and ride my beloved horses.

Despite having a home with my then future husband, I felt “homeless.” Struggling to find jobs post graduation and also starting a career felt like a terribly unstable and unattainable thing. Trying to make friends and find new hobbies to replace the old ones created a doubt in my sense of self. Many days I just wanted to escape and go back to place I knew I truly wanted to be.

That’s the funny thing about change, over time, change changes you. During the pandemic, I married, worked, and then I left my job and took some time off to re-evaluate my life. I began searching for opportunities to work with horses and nonprofits around Austin, and I did my fair share of exploring all the natural areas around the city. I began to have a better outlook of “maybe the city life isn’t so bad after all.” Dancehalls became a place of comfort for me to listen to my favorite music and find friends amongst a common passion for dance.

This began to stir old passions in me that I hadn’t experienced in many years. Finding out I was going to have a baby made these things even more apparent. I realized that this new sense of calmness and need for self expression was a connection to this place my husband and I had built. Drinking my coffee this morning, driving through my neighborhood, and pulling up to the house we spent the past couple years working on, I realized this is home. Every memory and hardship over the past couple years has led to this point of finding myself and leading me on this artistic journey. I found my home.

Try, Try, Try Again

Failure isn’t a word that I’m not familiar with. In fact, you could say that we have quite the long history together. As an artist, it’s something that seems to be apart of the daily norm.

When people hear the word “artist,” they might envision a person like Bob Ross, Monet, or Van Gogh. A person working diligently in their studio on some master piece they randomly produced from their brilliant minds. Everyday, creating new artworks worth millions of dollars with little to no effort. Well, let me tell you. These guys had failures too. In fact, some of them didn’t even become famous until after they died.

I remind myself of this fact when I’m elbow deep in paint and extremely frustrated with how my current painting is looking. Just when I’m about ready to set the whole canvas on fire, I step back and realize I need a breather for a moment. There are times I cannot even force myself to walk in the studio due to the overwhelming amount of gallery pieces and commissions that still need to be finished. Paintings that have been sitting there for months, even years, untouched, half way painted, homeless and unsold. There’s nothing more disappointing than seeing all of your failures sitting there, staring you back in the face.

There’s a quote: “The greatest artist was once a beginner” that I think of when I’m in times like these. I’ve been working on becoming a professional artist since 2015. I went to school at Texas State University and switched my major from Art Education to Painting. Finally I graduated in 2019, but I felt unsettled in my degree. Although I had completed my BFA, my thesis was unclear and I never really knew what I wanted to accomplish as an artist. I worked a few artists jobs coming out of school, including the infamous Jerry’s ArtArama of Austin, and as a gallery curator for a nonprofit called ArtUS Co. Both were incredible experiences, and during those times, I was working on branding and starting up my art career. I was blessed to get my own professional studio with the curator job, but I never actually painted there. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I painted much at all when I worked there.

JI Art Creations and Texas Art by Jacquelyne were just a couple of my failed startups. Every name I picked to brand my business just didn’t feel right. The creations I was making were mediocre in an ever competitive art market. On top of working full time jobs, painting seem to fall lower and lower on my list of things to do. I submitted some old works to art galleries occasionally, but rejection letter after rejection letter made me regret even going to school to be an artist. I should’ve majored in business, but looking at my business endeavors, I probably would’ve failed at that too.

Like I said, failure and I have a long history. It’s now 2022 and things have started to change. Life has settled down for me, I married the love of my life in 2020 and now I’m expecting my first son in April of this year. The pieces have finally started to fall together and the vision for my art career has finally started to make headway. The opportunities are now falling into my lap and the paintings are flowing effortlessly. All the old half painted canvases that have been sitting in my closet for years are being brought back to life and the passion I once felt for art is finally returning.

As I work towards my goals and also accept this new role as a mom, I encourage each and every one of you to continue to try even if you fail and fall flat on your face. Of course, nothing is perfect and I still have a lot to learn, but what I have learned is that with every failure comes growth. That is why it’s important to keep trying. Keep trying to accomplish your goals, dreams, and slowly but surely, it will happen. Keep on painting my friends!