coffee shop, northside, chicago, america, universe, collective unconcious
i find it amusing that the unprotected wireless signal from some apartment across the street is coming in better than my paid hotspot account. at least the cappuccino was good.
my mind has been spinning in recent days. ideas for paintings fill my head. paintings in custom tempera, in oils, on panel, on paper, with casein. explorations of ancient work, personal work. comments of the state of art, on art therapy, on pop culture. modernism, post-modernism, whatever has already replaced post-modernism that we have not been able to label yet. my head is swimming: my focus is drowning.
i imagine a world where i have the time and the unlimited resources to accomplish all my goals. i don't want to be realistic about it, i don't want to have to pick and choose.
i've stopped feeling to goddamned afraid to paint what i want to. i am no longer worried about whether or not my subject matter and my ideas are worthy of being shown in big-city galleries. i'm not questioning my artist self. i don't need to prove anything to anyone. it's time i committed my ideas to canvas rather than fretting over their validity.
the fear of the blank canvas. the desire to fill it. they are the cycle of opposing forces that drive forth excellence. i'm caught in the spokes.
my mind has been spinning in recent days. ideas for paintings fill my head. paintings in custom tempera, in oils, on panel, on paper, with casein. explorations of ancient work, personal work. comments of the state of art, on art therapy, on pop culture. modernism, post-modernism, whatever has already replaced post-modernism that we have not been able to label yet. my head is swimming: my focus is drowning.
i imagine a world where i have the time and the unlimited resources to accomplish all my goals. i don't want to be realistic about it, i don't want to have to pick and choose.
i've stopped feeling to goddamned afraid to paint what i want to. i am no longer worried about whether or not my subject matter and my ideas are worthy of being shown in big-city galleries. i'm not questioning my artist self. i don't need to prove anything to anyone. it's time i committed my ideas to canvas rather than fretting over their validity.
the fear of the blank canvas. the desire to fill it. they are the cycle of opposing forces that drive forth excellence. i'm caught in the spokes.