I came across an old picture of mine and felt a terrible tug in my heart. Because I know when I am gone, so too is my work. I can’t deny that hurts. I would like to believe that at some carboot sale where my life is sold after being cleared out of where ever I end up, someone will say that photo or piece of art (writing never gains much attention) is nice. That someone will appreciate it. They will, in a way, remember me.
My take on how children who are being emotionally and verbally ground down by certain adults around them, until they eventually give up. It happened to me.
I’m tired, I can’t be bothered to hide my art behind filters anymore. Here it is, with apologises to @fkatwigs who inspired it. I did you no justice, and I truly wanted to make something great inspired by you.
The truth is that I am a “fair” artist at best. That was the assessment I was given by my York college art tutor when he looked at my laughable portfolio for the first time. I grew as an artist, but not enough, and that clearly frustrated my tutors (I had four for different aspects of creativity. Photography, sadly, was not one of them. I doubt I would’ve appreciated it at the time if it had been).
Why? I don’t know. Mostly because it was the only decent course I could qualify for that was highly unlikely to contain any of the horrible sociopaths who had made secondary school an utter living nightmare. And I was okay at it. Back then, you had to make as much GCSEs with Cs or above to make certain courses. I wanted to go for the holy grail: A Levels. Specifically English Language, English Literature. The other two would be Politics and Psychology.
After failing to achieve the desired grades (I was one C off), I took a year off trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I read through the entire Tolkien trilogy. Re-watched the whole series’ of Only Fools and Horses on TV Gold. I did basically everything I could to avoid thinking about The Future.
Then came the inevitable day.
I was given two options: get a job or work towards getting a career. Refuse either, and I had to leave altogether.p
I choose art. I came to like it.
But I love it more than I’ll ever have the talent to prove it. To prove my love.