Weaving Godess Giveth, Weaving Godess Taketh

I can't remember when it was exactly, but one month last year I sold three pieces at Red Art Gallery, resulting in a whopping big cheque (well, a direct deposit actually) which pleased me to no end. Then the next day, I received a bill from my accountant, for an amount quite a bit more than was on the said cheque.

In the last two days I was paid for two pieces, and combined with the "cheque" coming my way from the Red, I felt I could justify having signed up for a workshop in Blenheim, and the Symposium down in Dunedin, in March. This time the warm-and-fuzzy lasted about three hours; I got the bill from my accountant for the latest tax return work, which of course was a bit more than my three latest sales.

I know it's not polite to talk about money, and so publicly, but I also know this is one of those things many weavers/artists worry about.

In my case, I have a forgiving, indulging husband with a day job, and off of whom I have mooched for the last eight years. I wouldn't be weaving if it weren't for his tolerance, encouragement, and practical support. At the same time, this endless, relentless deficit skew my own outlook on my life in recent years. My soul is not destroyed, but I'm grumpy and stingy.

On the other hand, I’m not changing accountants because mine is a painter, and she knows very well how we “artists” work. And she’s a lovely. And because Inland Revenue Department and I come from different universes.

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