Vagabond Artist

This morning I farted around at home procrastinating going to Ivry and writing down my thoughts so that I would not get side tracked. Finally at 1pm I left. Before going to my space that has such a somber air since Louis has been there I first stopped at another girl’s atelier to talk to her about coming to share with me, we’ve been talking for a few days. She is bright, cheery and a serious worker. She had to go so I walked down the hall of the old tannery, the light from below peaking through the floorboards, to my door dreading opening it.

He was not there. But this shadow is in the space. I had finally worked up my courage to tell him and he wasn’t there. I thought all day about a lawyer friend of mine that told me she fired a worker on his birthday after he had given her a gift. The guy cried but then months later thanked her that he was much happier in his new situation. Not that this is the case but it gave me courage.

I didn’t really know what to do so decided to make a toilet run down the wooden stairs to the disgusting shared toilets and saw another woman that was leaving her atelier, she said she was coming to say hi. I went back into my space, crossed my legs to hold it in and we chatted for a bit. Just as she was saying good bye the door opened and in came Louis, my heart jumped, I got tachycardia, I was thinking that I was going to have the baby right then. My friend left and I said hello, to Louis that I needed to talk to him but first had to go to pee.

When I came back he said he needed to pee. I made some herbal tea and when he came back I spit the toad. He was completely astonished but calm, I was surprised. I talked at length that he is a great guy but that I cannot work with him. Our personalities are too different. I want to work with the door open to have visits from friends, turn the lights on leave the windows without black out curtains but basically work and share with the other artists at the ateliers. He needs to isolate himself, close off all the windows to have one direction of light for his still-lifes. (I used to use a spot light.) He doesn’t like the lights turned on and works until dark with a candle. A cemetery!!
I said that painting is my profession, I need light. He said that he needs to go to the atelier to get out of the house.

I feel like I have lost my tranquility in my space. He said that what if he refuses to leave. I hadn’t thought about this possibility but some how managed to say that it is my space, I have the contract and I have made my choice. I feel so much better. It is sad for him and I realize he is in a stitch but c’est la vie, today I’m a bitch.