Call it mid-life crisis, I suppose. As I write this, I’m in the middle of a forcible removal of myself from, well, everything, going on at the moment, which has given me a little time to think about where I am, where I’ve been and where I’m going next.
And seeing that this is what I project to be the first in a series of, ‘scribbles’ for anybody who might be interested in my work, or might be into (or planning to get into) art as a career (or as something to do because bungee-jumping wasn’t exactly their thing), well, I thought I might do a little ‘scribbling out loud’ on the subject.
I mean about why anybody might choose to do what a lot of people consider quite useless or impractical or just plain weird. Why anybody might choose to do something that doesn’t always lead to fame or fortune (although when it does, boy does it ever) and has most everyone you know looking at you funny because you don’t go to work in a high-rise in a suit.
Nobody likes to be looked at funny (well, generally, anyway), and I reckon everybody likes to be, well, accepted and to have people have a good opinion of them. 'Oh, he’s got a good job' or 'Oh, he’s vice president now' or 'Oh, she’s got a lovely three-year-old.' People who do what I do don’t always get that.
More often than not, we don’t, and derision (polite or otherwise) is just something we have to live with (unless you’re one of us who hits the big time and buys a car or a condo with every painting sold). So why do we. Why would you? Are we masochists? Maybe.