Cold Pillows and Warm Blades
Looking at art and listening to punk puts me in a good mood. It's still foggy and chilly at 1:30 in the afternoon in the village and normally this would send me reeling from surface to surface thinking thoughts of destruction but I've spent four hours on the internet catching up on my favorite news sites, reading art blogs, looking up cities to live for artists, and listening to Pete scream and I'm in love with life right now. There are probably 10,000 more productive things I could be doing but I'm comforted by the sameness of my LJ 'post an entry page' and how thrilling it is that it looks exactly the same as it did when I started this in 2003-4. I hate the revamping of websites I go to frequently.
Art makes me happy. I wish I was able to create more art than I am now, but the only room I have is for a sketchpad, some colored pencils, and a hated water color set. I fret sometimes thinking the bad thoughts of "If I were a 'real' artist, I could make art out of dried buckwheat and sunflower oil - you must not be a real artist' but when I rationalize it, it sounds dumb. Sure artists often work in many mediums but Elizabeth Peyton paints and Anish Kapoor makes sculptures, just because you prefer certain mediums doesn't discredit your art.
I should have kept going in the art program at university but like all the problems I have, it boils down to that I didn't believe in myself enough and I should have. I shouldn't have taken the criticism so hard. I should have believed that I was more punk than I am.
I get worried that it's too late to reinvent myself or change my 'image' but I know I shouldn't even have those thoughts as a 27yr old woman. I should stop thinking so much and just do what I want to do.
I want to live in a place where there is a lot of art and ideas and doing happening. My friends talk a lot but there's not a lot of doing. I want to be a part of something. Collectively or some thing. I want to live and breathe and taste art like every day. I don't want it to be limited to one thing though. Street art, performance art, painting, sculpture, movement, instillations. Big shit.
Art makes me happy. I wish I was able to create more art than I am now, but the only room I have is for a sketchpad, some colored pencils, and a hated water color set. I fret sometimes thinking the bad thoughts of "If I were a 'real' artist, I could make art out of dried buckwheat and sunflower oil - you must not be a real artist' but when I rationalize it, it sounds dumb. Sure artists often work in many mediums but Elizabeth Peyton paints and Anish Kapoor makes sculptures, just because you prefer certain mediums doesn't discredit your art.
I should have kept going in the art program at university but like all the problems I have, it boils down to that I didn't believe in myself enough and I should have. I shouldn't have taken the criticism so hard. I should have believed that I was more punk than I am.
I get worried that it's too late to reinvent myself or change my 'image' but I know I shouldn't even have those thoughts as a 27yr old woman. I should stop thinking so much and just do what I want to do.
I want to live in a place where there is a lot of art and ideas and doing happening. My friends talk a lot but there's not a lot of doing. I want to be a part of something. Collectively or some thing. I want to live and breathe and taste art like every day. I don't want it to be limited to one thing though. Street art, performance art, painting, sculpture, movement, instillations. Big shit.