somewhere in los angeles among the mix of actors, stereotypes, and expectations, there are creatives who think they need to play the role of crazy tormented artist in order to succeed. i suppose if you can play the part and mold yourself into that perfect cliche, people might follow to embrace you as an artist. but for the rest of us normal-looking folks, we're just tormented. lol.
i don't mean that we talk to little birds on our shoulders that only we can see, or that we cut our ears off and mail them to past lovers -- i mean tormented in that we are consumed by creation and destruction. put aside common money sob stories or substance abuse which may apply to people in any profession. art is not a "fun" pastime; it is a person projecting his anger, frustration, compassion, and love.
artists ponder their creations everyday, even during mundane daily tasks. they think about the next steps to take in the current pieces they're working on. they contemplate destroying their work. they struggle with insecurities about whether they have any talent at all. they question what the heck is the point of creating art anyway. they fight their feelings when the feelings disrupt the flow of a piece. or they barf up their emotions in the form of scribbles in their sketchbooks.
tormented in that sense.
i suppose a lot of my recent work isn't quite the eye-pleasing decoration that people like to put on their walls. fuck it. if i wanted to decorate i'd be a party planner.
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