Sometimes I really almost regret being an artist. Almost. The time in my life steadily disappears towards goals whose resolution grows more abstract the longer I work towards them. I used to love making art, it made me feel excited about life, and the possibilities. These days I find myself committed to things I believe in, but I spend so little time actually making art. Right now obligations outweigh desires. To give up all the things Ive worked so hard to achieve is unthinkable, but staying the course seems almost hopeless. Almost. I guess thats all its ever been though. A limitless quest, through abstract potential, towards a resolution that is nothing more than a feeling. But by the time you reach the feeling, the way you understand that feeling has changed dramatically. And so you set your sights on the next feeling and steadily move towards it, hoping that when you arrive youll be able to remember who you were when you set out. But invariably I never do. And the cycle continues and I pray to move faster than I change.
Posted on: Tue, 22 Apr 2014 06:08:14 +0000
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