Only three weeks until the Beaux Arts Show and I'm searching craig's list for a canoe. The eastern entrance to Everglades National Park lies less than 50 miles from where my booth will sit on the front lawn of the Beaux Art Museum at the University of Miami. The thought of leisurely paddles across sparkling bays and evenings camped on "chikees" watching tropical sunsets was more than enough to tempt me from the studio. I have, however, spent enough time in the outdoors to realize that these type of idealic thoughts rarely, that is never, mesh with the reality of a trip. A few weeks ago I had spent an uncomfortably cold night on a snow-covered ridge in the Smoky Mountains National Park wondering why I had decided to wear cross-country racers instead of boots. The everglades would be warm, but in the back of my head I knew I would spend the trip swatting swarms of bugs, trecking miles over mud flats and battling winds and currents that would leave me wishing for frozen mountain tops. But that didn't matter now.... I just wanted out of the studio.

The life of a working artist is not glamourous. At best I'm a glorified factory worker. Most days are finished covered in a fine black dust and with an aching back. I look like a coal miner. That is why I needed a trip to the everglades. "But you must love what you do?" That is a question I get a lot. I've sold used cars and worked as a janitor at my private high school, so I know a thing or two about bad jobs, and when it comes to sheer physical labor I've never worked harder than as an artist. It is a seven-day-a-week job. It's tough.

But the truth is I couldn't do anything else. Not because I love it, I don't, but because it gives me a chance to be me. Add the title "artist" to your name and miracuIously people no longer care that you spent some time in jail or wear carhart's and a ball cap to social functions. I know what I want out of life and I mean to get it. I don't want to compare myself to William Wallace but I too want my freedom. I'm not going to put on a kilt and pick up a claymore but make no mistake, I am highly motivated. So tomorrow I will get up and go out to the studio and finish the day dirty and aching. And if I tire a bit, there are still plenty of parks to dream of visiting.