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Month: June 2018

They tell me to be a successful artist I need to blog

They tell me to be a successful artist I need to blog.

Come to think of it I’ve always wanted to be a writer. But I have always been a little slow in that area, the kind of person who pursues other interest, like girls and sports, instead of a degree in creative writing. Not that I didn’t want to go be good at, it was just that other things got in my way, you know, like girls and sports and of course wanting to draw and paint. That desire to draw kept my attention on art instead of listening to the teacher explain how to be a creative writer.

To be honest, I’ve always wished I could be the kind of artist who could recklessly abandon all matter of security in the name of my art. I imagined I could live in some cramped studio on the outskirts of a bad neighborhood just to be there, to be around those dreams — broken or not. Maybe I’d live off the of tiny paychecks and eat canned food, because my art will sustain me! Who needs food when you’re an artist? The world is your buffet! I could be lonely and broke, but if I was pursuing that artistic dream, nothing else could possibly be necessary.

Turns out I either didn’t want it enough or didn’t have the personal constitution to withstand periods of hunger in the name of art. Maybe that means I don’t deserve it, because I didn’t spend my twenties struggling for this one thing. Maybe, the thought of my family going hungry pushed me to not follow my dream but supply for their needs.

I spent most of my life sometimes with money in the bank and oftentimes without it. I did work that supported my family but didn’t give my life any sense of purpose in the art world. It was fulfilling in the spiritual sense. I was blessed with a good income in the later years that now gives me the freedom to chase my dreams.

But the truth is money has always come between my dream and me. It has always been the thing that lures me away from that sacrifice, that all-in approach toward art. Because, my best work does not come from pressure and stress and the constant worry that I might not produce.

I tried to make the money less important than the dream and all it did was make me miserable and resentful and mean and less confident in myself than ever before.

I need to meditate, to have money in the bank, to have a real home, to free myself from the burden of financial stress. Only after all that can I even begin to think about painting. My best work is not born from struggle, as it turns out. It’s born from a sense of security and safety which often goes hand in hand with financial abundance.

Because, I believe you shouldn’t have to struggle for your art. You can sacrifice for it. You can make it a priority. But, I think struggle begets struggle and I don’t want my work to seem like a struggle. If I’m going to choose a creative life, I want it to be good. I don’t need the path of broken dreams to walk on my own.

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