Will this change everything?

This isn’t about art, not directly. This is about the times. My husband lost his job this week, after 26 years of managing a law office dedicated to helping the poor with their myriad legal issues: eviction, foreclosure, domestic violence, child custody. These are the disasters he’s spent his legal career fending off for his clients. It wasn’t always satisfying; the clients could be irrational, uncooperative, demanding, ungrateful. The judges might be indifferent, or capricious. The opposing lawyers could be unreasonable. But all that’s true of any legal practice. It certainly didn’t pay well; that’s where it differed from most legal practices. But he was committed to the principle that everyone deserved access to the courts, even the sometimes irrational and uncooperative poor. Because when he won cases, he saved families. And, as hokey as it may sound, he preserved a little piece of what we value in our democracy: that in America, all should have equal treatment under the law. Without representation, though, there’s no equal treatment in front of a judge. That’s just the way it is. Everyone needs a lawyer.
There were times over the years when I got tired of the problems of the poor. I thought about the vacation house we could have if he were a lawyer for the rich. But, as a working class kid from Beacon, New York, who improbably found himself at the University of Pennsylvania studying history, he decided this was what he wanted to do. He went off to law school in Washington, D.C. still committed to that idea, and started his career at Neighborhood Legal Services in the bleakest of Southeast D.C. neighborhoods. We came back to New England so he could manage the New Bedford, MA Legal Services office, and he stayed there for 26 years, reluctantly giving up some of his management responsibilities after he had a stroke in 2009. He expected to retire from this job – but not this year. Definitely not this week. His program fell victim to decreases in funding and mismanagement by the board. They suddenly had to cut a million dollars from the payroll. All the highest paid staff (except, of course, for the Executive Director who engineered the mess, but that’s another story) got pink slips. He has until the end of February to transfer his cases, pack up the knick-knacks on the bookshelf, and be gone.

But we still have a mortgage to pay. Teenagers to support. Medications to buy. A studio to pay for. Yes, a studio to pay for. Because no matter what happens, I intend to keep making art. There’s no going back now. But things will most likely change in the short term.

I could go on a political rant right now, about how America’s unwillingness to embrace the notion of universal healthcare actually impedes freedom, innovation, and entrepreneurial ventures, but I’ll just say that health insurance will cost us about $24,000 a year (yes, I’ve gotten quotes) if one of us doesn’t get it from an employer soon. So we can’t have Chris starting a solo practice while I build my art career. One of us will need to work for benefits. I sincerely believe that as a family, and as individuals, we’d both do better in the long term if we could take the risk of building a law practice, and an art practice, to serve our needs for the rest of our working lives. But we can’t. So we’ll see how that plays out. Wish me luck.
Every day, I’m still working. The habit is ingrained now, and I’m still present in the moment when I’m in the studio. I’m so grateful for the time I have to paint, and the opportunity to come as far as I have. And I’m not done. Today I’m getting my Rocky Shore painting ready to ship to Georgia, and I’m finishing up some small paintings. Art goes on.

Edge of the Pond, 12x12, oil on canvas

Goosewing Shore, 15 panels each 8x8