NOT DEAD YET
It’s ridiculous. For the better part of two months I have been having a creative meltdown. A complete panic stricken block. It has always been a periodical feature in my life since focusing in on art making as my primary purpose in life. Ironically, instead of using the blog as the place to tease out these issues and anxieties, I’ve avoided it like the plague to save the world from my apocalyptic visions of my artistic career.
I am however, going to try and make a concerted effort to try and use this blog for positive gain.
A key factor in my problem with my work (I believe) is the persistence of my diminishing bank balance and inability to find employment, not just in the creative industries, but part time temping jobs which I once swore I would never do again.
It seems I ought to make the most of my situation, and in-between applications, dedicate my time to considered art making.
I have recently participated in onedotzero’s graduate workshop, cascade, which enabled me to work with some really interesting creative practitioners from a broad spectrum of disciplines. Whilst gaining mutual respect for other industries, it affirmed my sense of importance not only as an artist, but specifically a painter. I don’t believe modes of existence must necessarily be categorised, but I do advocate the recognition of established and important fields of research.
I have found the journey to where I am now, as a graduate trying to establish where to aim next an arduous if not enjoyable process. Though I am conscious of the sublime history stacked up against every contemporary practitioner, I still find my self a gibbering wreck in considering my position in this world.
I find reminding myself that despite my efforts I might leave this world choking on my breakfast cereal a comfort and a reality check.
With my mortality tucked safely under my arm, I scan through the short list of the Celeste Art Prize and the John Moores Painting Prize.
I am humbled.
I am shown that, there are some very good painters out there. I tell myself I am twenty-two, and museli permitting, still in with a chance of making some half decent work before my time is up.
I feel as though since moving home my nervous ambition to move further and higher at a frightening rate has mellowed. In contrast to everything I’d planned, I don’t need to be in London, I don’t need to do an MA right now….
I am attempting to convince myself that the spark hasn’t died;
I just want time.
Time away from the institutions to find my voice. Develop my message, and make it coherent before yelling it from the rooftops.
One issue lingers. Will I find my voice, and will it be worth yelling?
