how i failed at being an artist
My emotions are overflowing lately. Wave after wave of revelation. It's been happening since the ritual I shared a few days ago. I'm still in disbelief of how much I've had backed up over the years. I've failed at expressing myself and in a way have failed at artistry.
My art hasn't been good for a long time. Even though I went to art school and have been doing this for a while it never measures up to my work as a kid. Everything I've made the last few years is void of any kind of masturbatory intentions and sacrifices confrontation of the self for the manufacturing of an end product —radically pointless. The true purpose of creativity has been superficial and I've been coming across as a mannequin.
I got over concerned with being witnessed. I wanted desperately to make a career around this and the only constant in the pattern of successful artists I was focusing on was public notoriety. That's not even the reality of anyone's situations. I've never been a particularly popular person and I didn't want to be one until I saw artists get popular on social media. I just wanted to get out of poverty doing what I love and I guess my heart got caught up in it. If I were more honest with myself I'd be able to admit that I struggle with being the center of attention.
I was a taciturn child, now my old ways are coming back again. I enjoy having a handful of close friends. They always seem to keep me dry in the rain. I like long naps and single player games. I've always been more introverted than I let off because I don't like giving the impression that I don't want companionship. It couldn't be further from the truth. I like people and want to connect with them I just need boundaries. Alone time. Going to parties as an artist looking for opportunities was a terrible experience for me. I can't bullshit people, it's really hard for me to say something I don't believe. A lot of people who work in nightlife are very good at this and it scares me. I'm not sure of what the practical alternative is in my position, but if it exists I trust God will deliver it at the perfect time.
Every time an old version of myself dies I always picture it less as a linear progression and more so a shedding to my core. With each layer comes new challenges and stressors. Infinite life is not found in the mantle. Magma is something special. I don't think I'll ever experience the bliss of being without desire or cognitive dissonance. Even though as an artist I want to be open to people I have to remind myself the most rewarding aspect of this for me is craftsmanship.
