I should call this blog "Talking to Myself". After the last post, talking to myself, I did some self examination as an adjunct to talking to myself. I examined the frame of mind I am in right now with regard to art making, and just about everything else. I do not have the market drive, I surmised. I have a teeny tiny income from my pension, with which I can pay my teeny tiny bills and my rent, which, though not teeny tiny, is affordable if I am very very careful.
For a long time the possibility of money and a wish for admiration and approval of my skills, and also a wish for communication with like minded others motivated me, and then it didn't. So crass, I know. But, no longer crass, presently, just unmotivated. But, this unmotivation is about showing and selling, not about making. But, without the second part, I question even more drastically the first part and it makes me a bit down at times (mostly when it's cloudy or raining, which is a lot here in Vancouver)
My biggest drive at the moment is to travel, to go out into the wilds. I enjoy all that is involved. The meeting of new people in new places, the going there and the leaving, the seeing of all the things, the hardship of rainstorms, freezing nights, travelling down dirt roads in a van through potholes and washboard, the hikes, the kayaking, the lugging of things. I'm not interested in comfort, I'm interested in challenge, physical and mental.
At the same time, I can't do that ALL the time, and don't want to. I want to feel motivated to put my art out there, to show it, to go after exhibitions, but I'm stalled.
For instance, I know I need to redo my website, as mentioned in the last post, before I apply for anything. But, that means money from my teeny tiny income and an enormous block of time. For some reason, I can't commit. Maybe it has to do with the feeling that the work is just not good enough, not developed enough, so what's the point. I'm waiting for that magic moment when I see it all come together and say to me. YES, this is it, we are here now.
