What is it you seek?
You are here, so you must be seeking something.
As a child, I most remember seeking a voice. I didn’t have a loud or particularly confident voice, but I did draw pictures much of the time. In grade school I doodled magical unicorns on friends’ Trapper Keepers and made comics from schoolyard tales. My pictures could give the stories of others a visual voice, which turned out to be just as important as all of the words.
I knew early on that I wanted to be an illustrator. In college, I was a seeker of skills and the confidence it would take to sell them. Upon graduation, I was a seeker of opportunity. I flew to New York City with several portfolios and a perfectionist’s spreadsheet of appointments. I was a seeker of validation and was rewarded plenty. But when I returned, my phone did not ring.
And so I sought patience (which still eludes me).
After months of odd jobs and auditioning for every possible game show in Southern California, I was called for real illustration work. Over the next few years I would land my first picture book, a major ad campaign, and a solo gallery show. I met the goals I set in school. So was this the success I was seeking all along?
Alas, the problem with seekers is that they will always find something more to seek. For us, satisfaction is short-lived, if it is ever felt at all.
My first child was born in 2008, just after a record year for my art. I was so afraid of what would happen to my career once I had a kid that I gave myself near impossible deadlines thereafter. I did not nap when he napped (as is universally advised). And so for the next year (or several) I would be a seeker of sleep.
I kept moving. If I stopped I might have been unable to pick myself back up. So I worked 16-hour days, drawing and painting and serving on boards and teaching college students - until one day I simply could not remember why I was seeking all of the things that I sought in the first place. So I prescribed some time to seek myself.
I paused and connected. I had a second child. I actually turned down assignments that didn’t speak to me. This was not easy. But I sought focus.
Two years ago, our family made a spontaneous move to Charleston. I would finally allow myself to focus solely on crafting and illustrating stories. Much of my career thus far has been in drawing and painting seekers. Like me, (and I suspect you as well) they seek adventure and joy and knowledge and justice and truth (and sleep). They have tales to tell, and I hope to channel their voices. I am henceforth a seeker of stories, and I look forward to sharing them soon.
Illustrations ©Jaime Zollars 2016