Voices Inside My Head

Voices Inside My Head

The voices inside my head get in my way more often than I care to note. As an artist, I try to paint my feelings and the painting in this post is what the inside of my head feels like … a lot.

Insecurity rules me. I suffer from fluctuating degrees of almost-confidence and assured-self-loathing. That’s a real thing so writing a blog about my art? Wildly intimidating. It’s not that I don’t know what to say in an Art Blog but honestly, I don’t know what to say in an Art BlogI’ve read other Art Blogs and found some to be impressive and motivating. Some truly impressive because the skills of the artist are ‘off the chain’. I have skills on Mondays, sometimes on Tuesdays. The weekend is off-limits.

Am I Jealous Much?

Viewing beautiful works of art takes my breath and spirit all in one sighting. When I release the breath, I am regularly whiplashed into a depression that sets in so deep and permeating, I am literally immobilized. Crippled. Down for the Count. Out of there. You get it.

I accept instantly and beyond any shadow of a doubt that I am as inadequate an artist as I am a person. I have no process. I have no overall concept of who I am as an artist. I have no grand design, no style of my own, no effortless, insightful, daring and innovative skills. No one could possibly want to hear what I have to say. Even I ignore me. I turn the music up, smoke a joint, have a glass of wine and play a match 3 game so my ill-begotten thoughts don’t drag me into the abyss of tunnels and spurious dead-ends in my useless brain.

But.

I decided to do this. Write this. Tell This Story and share my art. Insecurities aside, I actually love what I create if only for the single moment when I am not comparing my creations to the fantastic work of other artists. I love my art enough to share it, to sell it, to create a website that touts my insight and capabilities as a visual artist. Yeah, I know. I am a real life dichotomy. An artist ruled by depression, seduced by Ego.

I may or may not get to a point where I think I have a process or a style and then I’ll share both. Or, one or the other. Or, one and not the other. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’ll write another blog next week. Still, I’m posting this tidbit here and now. What am I scared of anyway? I have no subscribers or readers so for all I know, this post will only be seen by spammers. Spammers don’t care about the voices or the inside of my head. 


Que Será, Será.

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