Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Portrait of the Artist as a Lonely Soul

Disclaimer: This post has been written with the express knowledge that I will probably sound like a pretentious emo douchebag to anyone who is not myself.


I work better at night. Late night, when I'm exhausted and hungry and cold and wanting for nothing more than comfort. Of course, it's usually that lack of comfort which drives me to work in the first place.

When I say work, I don't really mean work. I mean creating art. Not crafting, because crafting is a happy thing. Art comes from a deeper place.

I started using art as catharsis years ago. I've always been a crafty person; it just fit, I guess, that I would use my hobby as a way to purge emotion.

Right now I feel lonely. I would like to stop feeling lonely, but instead of confronting the issue head on (which would be the smart thing to do), I am trying to spill it out onto a canvas. And maybe I'm not tired or hungry or cold enough, but for some frustrating reason I cannot work. My materials are not clicking. I can't see in my head what I want. I feel the energy in my fingertips, frothing, surging, straining to get out and onto this damned canvas but I can't do it.

Not tonight.

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