Scattered Time #74/100
This is the clock that has been on the drawing board for awhile, I just finished putting it together. I should be happy. HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY
I'm grouchy. I still feel that I am a wick. I am doused with flammable liquid. But no one is striking the match. I keep looking outside of myself. The motivation. The spirit. I need to know that there is a point in making art. I know there are lessons. I know it soothes my soul. One would think that that is enough. One would think I would be so grateful to be in a few galleries here. One would think I would look at my 'solds' and feel such a sense of accomplishment.
A show comes up, I put work in. I sell. I see an ooh and ahh. And then it's over. The work is in there. I'm here. I don't get to see/feel/hear whats going on.
What the hell do I want anyways?
Sometimes I know it is good to know what you 'think' you want. It helps, if anything to pretend and believe that that will influence things. I gotta say, when I left Arizona in "03 I had no fricking clue where I would end up or what I would do. I had a fantasy about making art. What kind I had NO idea. I had about as much business thinking I would be an artist as the next guy.
And when I decided to stay in Vermont I had no idea still about anything. I could never ever have dreamed I would be living where I live, that I would have found a Tod as a friend, that I would be doing what I am doing. NEVER!
Which leads to this conundrum of what is next. If things keep going along at this slow painful pace I am going to implode to such an extent that I will in fact explode. I still don't know. Still don't know what I want. And even if I did that doesn't make it so. I drove around today for three hours on the back roads. Driving in a trance. A daze. Slow. Numb. Then I got into the big city (Burlington) and felt sickened by everyone. What are they all doing? It's busy. Cars everywhere. People buying and running around. It always shocks me how everyone seems to know where they are going and what they are doing. I felt like a little particle, floating aimlessly around. Purposeless. Alien. Lost.
I want to make art. Shut up and make it. Not so easy. Reciprocity of some sort needs to happen. More than the occasional sale. There needs to be more continual energy and excitement. I can't keep it up all by myself. That is the challenge I guess. What that would look like I don't know. Do you guys know what I'm talking about?