On the life of a ‘so-called working artist’ - what I’ve learned so far…
Making art is not the easy choice. TV/Entertainment/Drugs/Alcohol/Hanging Out/Reading, those are easy choices. You have to create for you, and do it every damn day whether it comes easily or not (and it’s hardly ever easy).
I’ve struggled for years under the misconception that all I needed was Virginia’s message - a room of my own - to finally make new and meaningful work. But I’ve learned, a new setting won’t help if you don’t change. All the free time in the world doesn’t mean anything if you let it slip into the voids of the internet. That day job was a great excuse for not producing. Having the space to create doesn’t mean you will.
In fact, your will is the only thing that really matters.
A studio doesn’t care if you use it, but the people you’re asking for support do. A room doesn’t have arms - it won’t grab you and force you to put needle to thread, paint to canvas, words to the page.
Waiting for inspiration can take a long ass time.
It’s all up to you to create the things you want from what you have - to ‘make it work’ instead of building up castles in your mind. When you get the thing you think you need and still don’t use it, you feel twice as bad as you did before.
Hey ladies. Here we are. Cones. Hanging out.
(I have daydreams of us hanging out in Indiana, or maybe even some place better. It’s a temporarily sad, yet ultimately happy thought thinking of you all. I miss you.
What’s everyone up to?)
It has arrived!