The Jobs That Keep My Art Breathing

People often see the final piece, the polished work hanging under gallery lights, the quiet stillness of acrylic glass catching the light just right, but they don’t see the hours behind it.

They don’t see the early mornings, the commutes, the shifts, the second jobs that somehow turned into three jobs.

I work three jobs to sustain my art career. Three.

It’s not glamorous. It’s survival.

But I’ve learned to stop resenting it. Because somewhere between exhaustion and obsession, I’ve found purpose. Every job, whether it’s cleaning, walking dogs, running my business, or just keeping up with the endless cycle of bills, helps me protect the one thing I can’t let go of, my art.

Some mornings, I sit in silence too long before I can even begin. But I always begin. I always find my way back.

People talk about balance. I don’t think it exists for me right now. What exists is endurance. What exists is choosing to keep going even when you’re not sure what it’s all for.

Because somewhere deep down, you know it’s for something.

Art has never been something I do. It’s who I am, and sometimes I hate how much it costs to stay that person. But I can’t not make art. I’ve tried. I always end up back here, sleepless, messy, inspired, trying to make beauty out of chaos.

So when you see one of my works, know this, it’s not just an image. It’s time I didn’t have. It’s energy I borrowed from tomorrow. It’s me saying, I’m still here.

And as much as I wish it were easier, I also know I wouldn’t trade it. Because every hour I fight to keep my art alive is proof that it matters.

Proof that I matter.

Working three jobs doesn’t make me less of an artist, it’s what makes me one.

It’s the fuel, the fight, the grit behind every piece I make.

And maybe that’s the most honest kind of art there is, the kind that comes from simply refusing to stop.

• kezleigh

I’m Kezleigh, a Toronto artist exploring how memory and perception take shape through laser-printed digital paint.