I don’t talk about it. I don’t ever let on but I used to be an artist. Surprising? People who grew up with me know this but in general I don’t talk about it. I don’t like to explain. For about fifteen years me and art have been broken up. Until now. Times are a changing.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately, why don’t I do art anymore? Why don’t I draw or paint when that used to be all I ever did? I’ve been disgruntled and discouraged you can say maybe even a little ‘butt-hurt’.
When I was in High School, in art class I had an art teacher who used to say to me “What does this mean?” Seems like an innocent enough question but this infuriated me. A sensitive artist hissy fit perhaps? I don’t know but I will tell you some of the things that ran through my head:
Why does it have to mean anything?
What do you think it means?
What does it mean to you?
fuuuu <– especially
And then – we are still on art class here – the grades. Grades on art? WTF? -.- I am far to anti-authoritarian to have any truck with schools, classes, institutions, labels, ‘critics’… Knowing that I would have to deal with all that bullshit put me off art.
Then drinking and partying got in the way. Drank a lot of booze, did a lot of drugs; got through it VD and child free thankfully. I have no regrets but all that didn’t leave any time for art.
A couple of weeks ago I was messing around in Photoshop doing ‘strutting leo’ meme pics. I cracked myself up, had a good time. A real good time. It reminded me how I used to do creative artsy stuff all the time. All these questions have been in the back of my mind ever since.
The other day I made a decision. I’m going to be art Amy again! Some people write, some people sing, I do art. It’s what makes me happy. I guess now I’ll have to stop shaving my armpits, start smoking clove cigarettes and start wearing my mom’s clothes from the 70’s or something.
(p.s. It took me two hours to write this. I ain’t no writer that’s for sure.)