Exploring the dark alleyways, sometimes its all too easy to lose yourself rifling through the trash. As an artist, nestling in the shade of yourself, its a double edged sword you run the risk of impaling yourself on continually.The very act of it is diminished constantly by the need to make a living.
So,for a few days this week, I was in the foulest of moods-raging at the moon and the sun and the world like a demented blindman shaking his stick at the night sky. It’s the sitting for days, naval gazing in the suffocating seclusion of my studio, and I could well have done with the perspective of a walk in the open air. Instead I elected to stand in the fish bowl of a live painting event at the Belly Up.
I daresay I played the artistic stereotype to a tee that night-prowling like a tiger before my easel-all furled brow and whiskey chasers.Afterwards, as I sat grimly in the car ride home, feeling merely like some anecdote on the night and bemoaning my lot and the fact that such events aren’t exactly garnering sales, my ever wise and beautiful wife reminded me what a lucky S.O.B I really am.
With my head stuck so far up my arse that I could see my breakfast, I had completely neglected to consider the legions of people (mostly female and lovely) who had traveled out to see me, and watch every stroke. Or that the event was for charity-Save a Breast foundation, and that a room full of people had bought raffle tickets in the hopes to win my art. Or how happy it made my friends-the organizers that I be involved.
Or even the not too small matter that I got to eat a delicious meal in lovely company and dance with my equally lovely and delicious wife.
So thank you all-you are truly the lights in the black curtain of my sky.Being an artist is somewhat like a religion, it can provide sanctuary, hope and solace, but can also be like a fog misguiding your every move.
Sometimes, I forget that its just enough to be who I am, where I am right now. Thats enough to ever hope for, and I do well to remember that.