The little things

As of late I have been in a slight creative rut. The ideas continue to overflow, but an overwhelming concern of the larger picture smashes them into submission. Typical artist self doubt I suppose. Can't let such a silly thing get me down. I know I got the talent to make it. In some ways that isn't the point though. My goal isn't to become a renown artist, just a fulfilled one. I dream of the day when my physical work will match my internal expectations. I could quite literally have my dreams come true. Imagine how it must feel to possess such an ability.

On another note Pandora finally moves forward after her long stay in the corner. She still fights me at every turn, but i can't ignore her taunting any longer.

I resolved to turn off my brain and just work. I know where it needs to be, I just need to put in the time and get her there.

Obsession of the form

I am still working away everyday, but I have forgotten my camera consistently the last few days, so for today I present to you another rant and tomorrow the massive update of my work. This rant is something I reclaimed from an old sketchbook so my apologies if its a bit disjointed, but yea thats how my mind works. On to the rant then.

In general people possess innate desires. To achieve a happy life it is necessary to identify these desires and work towards them.
What if they are weird or unethical?
In such an instance society forces the individual to adapt and suppress. Society is inherently restrictive of human chaos for the benefit of the whole.
Censorship-separate issue.

My desire is not unethical, simply not accessible 100% of the time. I desire the feminine form, the body, the curves. For the longest time I assumed this was a primitive sexually charged desire, but no, not solely. As a healthy young male that desire exists, there is no doubt, but that is only an amplification of the source. I truly desire the experience of the form. The subtleties of touch. It is something I have yet to fully understand or satisfy. I believe my answer lies within the realm of the artist. It is one of my strongest motivators.
A pleasant extension of this desire is the connection to the mind. Selfish enjoyment of the physical form is significant yes, but it pales in comparison to the mind. A reciprocal  understanding. Not that superficial wanting, no. The words themselves mean nothing. I need an honest return.
Could this be love?
In part yes, but not entirely. Love is much grander. For now I speak on much more raw terms. I want that carnal base enjoyment. My experience is the only proof I can really trust and understand.
How do you project such a powerful and complex feeling?

Breaking down the issue. What of the body without the conscious mind. That is the everyday. That is what I am weaned on. The random form that catches my eye and holds my attention. To indulge these brief temptations isn't exactly ethical, voyeurism. Because of societal norms I comply. This is why people commit to a relationship. Mutual obsession. Consensual experience. The stage of infatuation.

Defined:
Running fingertips down the curve of the back and across the hips
The play between shadows and light 
The gentle stretch of fabric  
Unconscious and entangled

It is an appreciation that boarders on worship. I worship the utter perfection that is so natural. I don't need any of these artificial enhancements. I run my hand through her hair and get lost in her eyes.
How can I convey this sincere appreciation to my viewer?
Create the experience. Is it possible?
This is all a skewed over-romanticized version of what really is. I am over-romanticized cause it is much more appealing than the real world.

Muse Rant

Here I find myself again sitting before my dear neglected blog, which only ever really wants to just promote me as an artist. Now before you roll your eyes and cringe over the idea that this may be an apology post, I direct your attention to the title. Yes this will be a rant of thoughts that are pestering my brain box. I know we all love pretty pictures and even video, but for now life dictates that I only have my words to express with. Worry not dear followers, I am doing my best to get back into the studio and yet again resume my consumption of various chemicals through art supplies. Now on to the rant.

As my art career furthers and the day of finding a real job looms ever closer I occasionally sit back and think, trying desperately to find meaning through it all. What is this feeling that drives me to art yet at the same time allows me to lose hours in thought. It is best described as a source of motivation or muse, if you will.

I use to think I was lost as an artist. I was aimlessly creating looking for the theme that would be me. Now in moments of reflection I see that it has always been me with an ever focusing goal. It is an odd feeling to know that you are working towards something that will be the culmination of your being yet have no idea what the hell it is. Every time someone asks me for a general explanation of what it is I do, I am painfully reminded that I still have no idea.

As it is right now, art is my only way of life. I can't see myself surviving without it. It invades all my thoughts and daily life. The people closest to me are based in art as well. So its art or nothing.

The problem arises when you consider the state of the modern world. In many ways it is hostile to the artist way of life. My present niche is much more forgiving than many parts of the world, but I still can't seem to drop the feeling that I will fade away into some menial job. I can't let that happen.

Working for yourself

I have lost count of the times I find myself sitting before a blank slate, work and responsibilities piled around me. It is rarely a case of a lack of inspiration, instead it is a lack of motivation. It is still hard to define even after it has plagued me a great many hours. I would assume art making should come easy to me after spending so many years dedicated towards it, but still something holds my hand. Current speculation is a lack of confidence, but I love painting so confidence hurry the fuck up.

Much of today was spent researching and idly sketching. I started another wall mural as well, but it has barely 30 minutes of work into it so no picture of work today. However, I can show you the camera lucida that one of my teachers let me borrow. It is very interesting tool and incredibly difficult to use. Best described as a primitive overhead projector. Unlike the modern day version it depends on environmental light and an assortment of lens, so everything has to be manually adjusted. After about an hour of tinkering I managed to get it to work and well lets just say I need much more practice.

Why Create?

I create to impact lives. So people will notice me(my ideas).
I want to deeply affect others as my ideas have affected me.
This is what drives me - gives me my purpose. So would my greatest fear be to fade away?
I must impact lives, through art, through life. I want to disturb the normal - wake people up.
No, I need to make change. But how?
It doesn't matter what I am remembered as. As long as I am remembered. Remembered as something positive is a bonus. The ideas must live on.