2004-03-24

my art hurts

I didn't grow up dreaming of being disciplined. I never wanted to be a consistent, perservering type of guy. my fantasies didn't include the day-in, day-out grind of baby steps.

I want the fame, the glory, the recognition, the affirmation, the alleged end of insecurity. I craved the artificial self-satisfaction that comes from others' accolades. I believed in Talent, with a capital "T." who needs hard work? gimme the payoff.

hence, the foundation of a lifelong (or almost thirty-one year span of) disappointment, directionless-ness and despair. sure, I did nine years of ballet as a kid, but I wanted to hurry up and be a great dancer, not workout five days a week. besides, the stage beckoned. that lasted for four years of high school and my first semester of college before I shelved that dream.

at the same time of dance's demise, visual arts loomed on my horizon, and that carried me through the final seven years of my formal education. I even got a degree in it. [just a B.A., and a double major at that, because I never wanted to commit and (in my own words) "waste my brains." funny thing is, I wasted my brains at college spending more time being an activist.]

fast forward almost nine years post-college and nary a sketchbook has been touched (nor has the world been saved). athletics took the spotlight, first cycling, then triathlon, then ultra-running, with brief forays into circus school (acrobatics and aerial rope) and my latest distraction: synchronized swimming. toss in my professional life as an editor/writer and I entertain yet another art form to bring me happiness.

I don't know where I'm going with this, so I'll close with two recent revelations. first, a problem with my ambitious dreams (combined with some natural talent and a healthy dose of laziness) was I never saw them as activities—they became identities. so, it may be good to explore the concept of hobby-ist, just doing it for fun, enjoying the journey or process, blah, blah, blah.

second revelation is really how I began this entry. there's no one but me who can bring out (or hold back my art). creativity doesn't equal originality... it's just creation. and creation does not equal final result. growing up, I didn't want to be (as in live as) an artist: I just wanted to be recognized as an accomplished artist... identity as retrospective.

that's not a life; that's post-mortem.

earlier - later