I Don’t Want to Sell My Soul

Nothing is ever so simple. I suppose that much should be obvious. Things haven’t been great for numerous reasons. My first solo show had a great opening, then nobody else came save for a few friends I haven’t seen in a while. Of course, I’m grateful for everyone’s support. A woman came by on the third day, telling me she’s interested in a few pieces and will come again when I take things down. She didn’t come back. In the end, I sold two books. Again, I’m grateful for that, but it makes me wonder why I spent thousands of dollars on paper, ink, and frames.

My relationship has been going through some very rough points. I feel guilty sharing this because it’s something so private and “holy.” But it’s also the truth. Many aspects of my life have been on pause or thrown aside because of this. We work through everything — we try our best. I have faith it will all resolve. However, the worst impact has been the negligence of my store.

Tasks are piling up. My business partner writes me very often with things to check out, people to meet, events to attend, ideas to employ, work that needs to be done. I haven’t had the energy to do any of it. Each email felt like a stab: the impossible task of opening a gallery/store only becomes more impossible as the money pours out of my pockets into the greedy hands of landlords and businessmen.

I tried opening a bank account for the business, but the representative who helped said he has never encountered such an error before. It took a week to finally resolve that issue. Three weeks after I dedicated the weekend to do it, I scraped the website together and published it. Three weeks of avoiding impossible tasks and not seeing my friends or going to the events I wanted to go to. Three weeks without taking pictures or practicing music. Three weeks of paying rent.

There was one photo shoot my business partner helped me get. They were two great people visiting from the US as guests of a fellow artist hosting a workshop. The “minimal budget” turned out to be no budget. They still haven’t answered the email where I delivered the photos. Not that I was expecting any payment, but it would always be nice to get something out of it. Meanwhile, we were quoted 15,000kr to design a logo by yet another fellow artist. I did it myself for free in two minutes.

Another woman in our collective posted about needing a driver for a coming festival: a paid job. It reminded me of when I organized the festival in December and needed a sound tech: also a paid job. We don’t get paid for the work that we do, but we need to find other people to do the work we can’t. Those people get paid (drivers, sound techs, videographers, etc.). We don’t. That seems rather unfair.

Part of it is burnout. Part of it is exhaustion from trying to keep myself, my home, and my life together while an accumulating financial burden grows at the same time. Part of it is frustration at not being able to find a job or learn the language or find time to read or write or take pictures or play piano or just go for a walk. I applied to more jobs, as usual. Jobs like “Sales Representative” and “Cashier.” There’s nothing wrong with those jobs; rather, it’s the employer who pays minimal wage for the most stress-inducing work and the least considerate conditions.

All of this is to say that I don’t want to sell my soul. I want to learn how to play the piano. Nothing more. I don’t think I’m asking for a lot, though it would be nice to take a few pictures, too.

My partner doesn’t want to stay in Iceland, and we agreed that Ireland would be the place to go if not staying here. There’s a voice inside me telling me that Iceland is a cruel and brutal country for lost souls — as I’ve written about before — and that it has served its purpose, and I no longer fit here. The voice says to drop everything and sell everything and get out of here: run to Ireland where I can actually go to other cities. Perhaps even other countries. Where there are trains and forests. And jobs (maybe).

Then, I think about my friends, the community I’ve come to know and love, the culture I appreciate, the venues I feel at home in, the crazy city I know how to navigate and get involved in. A few messages, and I can do anything I want here, from hosting an event, performing, giving a talk or lecture, meeting literally anyone (organizers, politicians, artists). That’s what makes this place special. But it’s also simply a result of the faults of being such a small and isolated place.

Nevertheless, it feels hopeless sometimes imagining staying here as things are. My apartment needs an immense amount of work that I can’t afford. Rent is ridiculous in every aspect. There’s so much competition with existing names and brands — how do I get myself out there? How do I compete with other people who are also struggling to get by in spite of being the go-to? How do I sell one single photo so it doesn’t feel like all these investments were a complete waste?

I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned and grown and changed in unimaginable ways. In that respect, every second and every penny has been worthwhile. I know exactly who I am and what I want. That’s quite literally worth a lifetime. The downside of this is that I know who I am and what I want… dissatisfaction with the state of things.

I know it will all work itself out. I know there is no right or wrong decision. Stay or leave, I know that won’t truly change anything. There’s unfinished business here, and the least I can do is exactly that: finish it. The issue all the while is that I refuse to sell my soul. I refuse to make a webpage full of smiling babies and happy couples so I can sell my photo services. Take one look at my creative portfolio and tell me that such work is being true to my style and my expression.

There’s more I want to write about, but I’ll leave some computer-generated recordings of some piano scores I’ve been working on. Generated because I haven’t had any time or energy to practice/play them myself. They’re all unfinished for the same reasons, but it gives an idea both of how I’ve been feeling and what I’ve been up to. I’ll conclude by saying that I love musical expression now. I was telling my partner yesterday how poetry is beautiful for its active interpretation: seeking meaning and feeling through comprehension. Whereas music is passive: you hear it and feel it directly. I would love to take it further, but that feels like a distant dream at the moment.