Still There Then

If tomorrow wasn't such a long time... — Bob Dylan

I noticed a new number the other day—696. It was the number of weeks I’ve been posting my Art Marketing News on Fine Art America. I hadn’t given it much thought, even though I see the tabulation weekly - 1 of 696, and so forth. But something about seeing that number stopped me for a second.

With this new Older Artists project, I’ve been keeping things simple. Just a banner that reads OA: post number. No graphics. No extras. Just the words.

But when I saw 696, I had a different thought.

What would it be like to post OA: 700?

Then I did the math. Seven hundred weeks is about 13 years. I’d be 91. The year would be 2039.

I was surprised that it didn’t feel distant. It felt possible. Even inviting. Something shifted a little when I saw that. Not in a dramatic way. Just enough to notice.

Having something out there—something I’d like to arrive at—changes the way the days in between feel. Things I’ve known about for years start to land differently.

Taking care of myself doesn’t feel like something I’m supposed to do. It feels more like part of the path toward something I’m already moving toward.

There’s also something about the rhythm of it. A weekly marker. I’ve had that for years without thinking much about it—695, 696, 697. Now I’ll have it here, too. Something to return to. Something I don’t have to push.

This has quietly become one of the most rewarding things I do. There’s no pressure around writing Older Artists. I’m not trying to sell anything or convince anyone. I’m just noticing things about my life, about getting older, about the artists around me, and putting that into words.

My sister has something similar. She wants to see her grandson graduate from high school. Coincidentally, that’s about 13 years away, too. It gives her something to look forward to.

Not a big, abstract goal. Just something out there that matters to her. Something that changes your brain waves and thought patterns, and if it truly sinks in, your behavior alters to align with the goal.

I feel a tinge of it. A desire to be more active and eat healthier, just those things, and being mindful and grateful for my blessings are enough. Small steps. Little wins that don’t jar the system.

I don’t know what that would be for you. It might be small. A sketch each week. Writing. An event you don’t want to miss. Something you return to without much fuss.

Something that makes the future feel like a place you’d like to get to.

As for me, I’ll keep publishing OA. I appreciate your free and paid support, but how many people read it doesn’t really change anything. I still find myself wanting to sit down and write it each week.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to OA: 700, but it feels good to have a reason to try.

If I do, I hope to see you there, but for sure…

I’ll see you next week.

— Barney