I’ve always had an incredible push me pull me love affair with fine art and the creative world.
The few years out of college, when I was committed to trying to find a place in art, I found myself confronting all of the most irritating cartoony stereotypes- the utterly narcissistic and dismissive scene twinks, the navel gazing petulant trust fund babies, the wealthy housewives crippled with ennui, the talentless with no humor and too much education…
Like a bad copy of all my childhood literary idols, I was another stereotype- the impoverished misfit.
I did everything right. I picked fights I couldn’t win, just for the bruises. I sabotaged good jobs and terrorized bad ones. I dated only the most insane women and surrounded myself with only the most unbalanced people. This formula paid amazing dividends and yet, when I managed to scrape together a few well-received low key shows here and there, I felt nothing but ridiculous. I pictured myself as a four year-old standing in front of the refrigerator, my finger paintings taped to the door.
“Look Mommy, I did that.”
And so I quit. I didn’t realize I had quit; it was a slow subconscious process. First I set out on an overly ambitious project that would take four years before I set it aside unfinished. By then, any strides in my fledgling career were washed away. I didn’t care.
But instead of putting on a tie and shitting out some kids, I dove deeper into the underground. I spent five more years working on consecutively more bizarre and grandiose entrepreneurial projects, all doomed by my inherent mad tea party methods. I spent another five years trying to dig myself back out only to realize as I finally saw some glimmer of normality, that I’m still not built for the real world.
I decided to hit reset again and have set out to complete the massive mural collage that I put aside over a decade ago. In order to ease my head back into the game, I started an artist library on Tumbler; an archival reference of artists that I feel are important.
My compulsive nature told me it wasn’t enough. So I’ve created this blog in order to (in my own manner) critically analyze and think through the artists from this library while also taking an opportunity to exorcise some demons and document some of my mad adventures.
I won’t call this a “journey” through the art world because people who refer to their lives as “journeys” ought to shampoo my crotch. But this is art viewed through the lens of my life, and the world as I have experienced it.
I’m not writing this to beg acceptance from academics, I’m not writing this to hand hold off the street novices, I’m just writing.
I would warn you- I am not a role model, I am not a teacher, I am not even a nice person. I am however, an observer, who has seen things you are probably too scared to see.