The journey from physician to artist was painfully slow and costly, but in the end, was worth all of the turmoil and distress. One aspect of the transition that I did not anticipate was feeling lost between two worlds, medicine and art.
In my mind the practice of medicine was all about rendering care as a general internist or family doctor. This is how I identified myself; this is was what being a physician meant to me, and this is the world I left behind when I left my practice for part time work in the emergency room. Although I was still in contact with most of my medical colleagues, I felt estranged from medicine. I was no longer active in our local and state medical societies and in the teaching programs in our hospital; my priorities had taken me out of that world. Others may not have noticed, but I felt I was no longer a member of our medical community. The problem was, I was also not part of any community of artists either.
I was a novice at the very bottom of a steep self learning curve. There were no artist friends and colleagues to replace those I left, and to even call myself an artist was unthinkable. I had no studio and my art was simple and limited and I was haunted by the fear that galleries and other art professionals would not take me seriously, thinking of me as a physician who was “dabbling” in art. Probably the most difficult aspect of this time in my journey was the absence of any role model. Although several of my medical colleagues were accomplished Sunday painters, I knew no one who was attempting to work two careers simultaneously.
For the first few years into this new life I was lost between two worlds, and it was my unshakable belief and trust in what I was doing that allowed me to continue. In the years since, there have been moments of crisis and self doubt, but I’ve never lost that basic trust in my dream.
Some artwork from the early 1980s
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