Remember me saying something a week or two ago about dying a bit before growing again? I think, due to a combination of factors, that I'm finally pulling out of this terrible funk I've been in since November. Something is stirring in me that has lain dormant for far too long, and now it is regaining conciousness with all the voracious hunger of a grizzly bear after a long hibernation.
Thank you Morrie. Thank you Mr. Rilke. Thank you Edward Hopper. Thank you Man Ray. Thank you Auguste Rodin. I owe my awakening to you all.
One incredibly great blessing has been bestowed upon me by the moving-in of my Mother-in-law: access to shelves and shelves of books. And pore through them I do. Now, after reading "Letters to a Young Poet", I flip through these books and instead of morbid admiration, (as I always used to feel, and as habits die hard, still feel to an unhealthy degree) I also feel a certain kinship... a bond with the creator. Now I look at these books and think, "Fuck, I could do this." I could live like a 1920's surrealist. I see things that I want to photograph every day. I could model nude for a sculptor. I could sculpt. I could sketch. But most important of all, I think I can finally express myself. That soap cap analogy was the last straw. I was truly fed up with myself by then. Something had to change.
Yesterday I spent the entire day absolutely stoned on the feeling that I had the soul of an artist. My only fear is that I think it's an either/or situation with regards to my new found outlook and my relationship with my wife. Already I've begun to pull away from her and sink deeper and deeper into myself. We'll see what is to become...
Thank you Morrie. Thank you Mr. Rilke. Thank you Edward Hopper. Thank you Man Ray. Thank you Auguste Rodin. I owe my awakening to you all.
One incredibly great blessing has been bestowed upon me by the moving-in of my Mother-in-law: access to shelves and shelves of books. And pore through them I do. Now, after reading "Letters to a Young Poet", I flip through these books and instead of morbid admiration, (as I always used to feel, and as habits die hard, still feel to an unhealthy degree) I also feel a certain kinship... a bond with the creator. Now I look at these books and think, "Fuck, I could do this." I could live like a 1920's surrealist. I see things that I want to photograph every day. I could model nude for a sculptor. I could sculpt. I could sketch. But most important of all, I think I can finally express myself. That soap cap analogy was the last straw. I was truly fed up with myself by then. Something had to change.
Yesterday I spent the entire day absolutely stoned on the feeling that I had the soul of an artist. My only fear is that I think it's an either/or situation with regards to my new found outlook and my relationship with my wife. Already I've begun to pull away from her and sink deeper and deeper into myself. We'll see what is to become...
posted by Grover at 1/17/2005 08:29:00 AM
5 Comments:
Ok, up to this point I'm still all talk. Time to walk the walk. So, on break at work, I make my first sketch (in years) by doing the time-honored exercise of drawing the hand that you're holding the pen/pencil with. It's a good feeling to retain the ability to surprise yourself. Granted, it's not anything you'll see in a gallery, but every journey of a thousand miles begins with one little step. That sketch was one small baby step for an artist, but one giant leap for Andy.
Congratulations. Yay, hooray for Andy. More power to you on your new journey...wherever it may lead you.
I encourage you to communicate your feelings to your wife, attend counseling, arm yourself with the tools needed for a successful relationship. Keep us posted.
Great blessing with your mother-in-law moving-*in*....
Well that's got to be a world first, see you're already creating original written work. ;)
I'm glad you're getting out of your rut, hope it doesn't cause too much of a rift with your partner. When looking at yourself hard, it is common to forget that others are there. Solipsism is a dangerous path, be sure to keep a balance. :)
Though understanding yourself better will ultimatly improve your husband type skills.
And here's ab it of advice I was given a few months ago - if you have to wonder whether or not you are an artist or creating a piece of art, the answer is usually in the negative.
Though we all have self doubt... unless of course you posses the rarest and most valuable thing in this society - self confidence/respect/esteem (whether or not those are all one is the same I can't say...)
Pasta lasagna, don't get it on ya.
When it comes to solipsism, I can't help but feel a certain amount of justification. I've been putting out for others 24/7 for what seems like an eternity, and it's high time for Andy to pay a little more attention to himself. I do hear what you're saying about balance. Don't want to alienate those around me.
Texas, I tried suggesting the counseling route. It was deftly deflected.
Ceez, while the drawings do have me looking down and saying "Damn, that's not bad!", I've never claimed to be an artist. Wannabe, more like it, but I'm getting better. :-)
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