aliceinsane

Today has been a hard one.

The first words I woke up to this morning were "Do you want to hear bad news? David is dead. He had a heart attack. "

All I could manage in response was "Fuck."

That is about the extent that it has been discussed.

Nobody seems to know what to say, so nothing is said.

But I need to talk about it.

David was my friend, I guess. (I'd call him a friend, whether the feeling was mutual or not doesn't really matter.) I met David many years ago when I was a teenager working at the local bakery. well, I lie. He observed me while I was working one day and must have decided I had an interesting look. I never took any notice of him. It wasn't until a while later our paths were to cross, when my father ended up doing some work on his property. Everything fell into place.  Dad came home rambling on about this man named David that wanted to paint me, and insisted I go and meet with him.  Yes, it sounded incredibly weird. An older gentleman 'watched me' at work and wanted to paint me.  Being somewhat of an introvert and not really in the mood to put myself in a 'bad situation', I tried to avoid it ever happening.  Finally, after much persuasion and clarification that he was a 'real artist' I went to meet him. He was everything promised and more.

He did end up painting me a couple of times, and I am honored to have had that opportunity. The first painting was technically amazing, but the second.... he knew exactly who he was looking at when he painted it. It's an incredible honor when you realize that a person can see you as you truly are . You can know a person for years and never experience who they really are. He understood me after a handful of emails and a couple of face to face meetings.  That is the gift of a true artist.

The last time we saw one another was an impromptu afternoon spent in his studio. I was unwell and didn't feel like being with anybody, but he invited me around to see his latest works that were going to be submitted into some competitions and exhibitions. He painted and chatted away about his life and his grandchildren. I flipped through his sketch books and probed around the studio, asking questions about his younger years.

He truly was the happiest person that I have ever met. Genuinely happy about life.  Happy to give all the time in the world to the people he cared about and proactive about making the things around him flourish. He motivated me to pursue my painting and drawing, always happy to analyze the things I chose to send him, and discussed the technicalities of watercolor in a way that I could understand. He had a fucking huge heart.

And now he's dead and I wish that he wasn't.

I miss being a part of this online community. Real life (and all of it's obligations) does tend to take first priority, but it truly never gives the same level of satisfaction as this place can. An artists creative soul can only be soothed by conversing with other artists. I miss sitting up to the wee hours of the morning drinking tea, drawing and chatting to the creatives about their passions. Chasing the muse.  I'd like to find the time for that again, but I'm not sure where it fits into life anymore. 

Even though I work in a creative industry alongside other artistic people, it still lacks something honest. Conversation slowly turns from passionate to the mundane. Then to money.  I'm tired of money. I'm sick of the struggle to 'sell, sell, sell' everything and anything you can give, just so that an employer gets a fat pocket . Money is that one filthy part of the equation that pretty much ruins everything about the creative process. I'm exhausted by it dictating what I can and cannot do artistically...So I've decided not to do that anymore.

Why are we giving so much of passion away to our employers/the person with the money/ the gallery that makes us jump through hoops to exhibit, pay for the space and then takes a nice old 30% commission on sales? Why are we fighting for scraps when we are the ones with the skills and the talent and actually making the art? Why are we letting people judge and critique our work as if it actually matters? That's not what we make art for. That is not our art. 

I've decided to quit and jump wholeheartedly into a new business for myself, making things and stuff and junk and art. I'm not working for anybody, nobody will be working for me.  I am making things, and putting them out into the world to see if anybody will buy them. Marketing what I make the way that I want to market it. No bullshit. No longer selling a piece of my dignity of self worth every time I compromise my art. Other artists seem to be really excited about the idea and have all jumped on board to help out and be a part of it. I'm excited to be finding a new network of passionate people, all equal and all in charge of their own artistic vision. Hopefully this gamble takes us all on an exciting adventure and ends up being a sustainable option, because the current system is not working for artists. It's just not.  We need to be supporting one another, having real conversations, igniting the passion within each creative soul we cross paths with, and find a way to make it financially viable without having to compromise all integrity. 

And if it fails and I don't sell a thing, then at least I fail of my own accord.

That I CAN live with.