After wandering the aisles of a local art supply store for the better side of an hour, I left with only a fresh supply of the most pitch black ink and an oversized pad of crisp, white drawing paper tucked under my arm. (Why a place that carries art supplies doesn't carry bags big enough to handle oversized media is beyond me, but I didn't care because I'm always happy after an art supply buy.)
I made a short stop at one of the campus bodega-equivalents for a drink and as soon as I hit the sidewalk, a sudden question was fired over my right shoulder and seized my attention. I turned around and recognized the inquirer, holding up the corner near the entrance, as one of Ann Arbor's displaced.
-Hey, man. You an artist? I'd never been asked so pointedly before.
-Yeah... a lil bit. I replied without missing a beat, half-smiling.
-Can I see? he asked, raising his eyebrows with a referential nod toward my drawing pad.
-Aw, sorry. Just bought this. Next time though!
-Ohhh, well alright. Take care.
And I was off on my way. In no more than a few seconds, and in so few words, I experienced a Winnfieldian moment of clarity - that yeah, goddamnit - I am an artist. To paraphrase another Black screen figure, Winston Zeddemore, I have the tools; I have the talent... But what do you call an artist with (what I consider to be) a really weak body of work? I don't know... maybe I'm just too hung up on my perceived importance of being prolific, but a greater output is goal nonetheless. It's publish or perish in academia and so it seems to go with us creative types. I don't really plan on going anywhere but into the hearts and minds of more people.
So I turn to you, dear reader -- I invite you to prime my pump. I think it's the Observable that separates Artist from Dreamer and I think I've been asleep long enough.
What would you like to read about?
What would you like to see?
Let me take your picture!
All things considered!
And go!
5 comments:
I have two engineer friends who, upon learning that Art & Design seniors get one dismal concrete cubicle studio to call their own, jetted off on an uncontrollable explanation of how they plan to fill and/or cover inflatable furniture with paint, somehow explode it, thus splattering said concrete walls with color.
Then one of them asked me, "So does that sound like art, Chris?" And--though I know it was a joke--I assured them that, to some people in the school, it would definitely sound like art.
What I mean to say is this: someone can produce boatloads of crap in their life and be less of an artist than someone who produces a few beautiful pieces. Take that paper and ink and go (I'm proud already), just keep in the back corner of your mind that proliferation ain't always the answer... especially in terms of things like MRSA and H1N1.
P.S. Consider your blog followed. :)
I always wanted someone to take my picture... just to have one good photo to be like "this is me when I was young". If you're ever looking for a subject let me know!
wait are you updating again?
that's the plan!
also, "As a skeptic, buzzwords really bug me. When I first saw kinoki foot pads, I nearly had a mental breakdown" killed me
Kinoki foot pads are basically the lowest form of products sold to vulnerable people. It really drives me nuts
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