Why I Make Art
I meant this as a response to [other person’s] post, but it didn’t go through, and all attempts to write it as a new record on the site wouldn’t work either. So copy and pasting from a writing app. If it doesn’t work I’m giving up and fucking off again.
I started creating because I liked to draw. It really was that simple. It was the same with writing, the only subject at school teachers and other students said nice things about. My drawings were “stupid” and admittedly, it’s not my greatest talent. Do I even have a great talent? Probably not. Few do. My original ambition was to act, but my father did everything he could to make sure it never happened. People told him I was good at it, but he just wouldn’t have it.
My point is that not everyone gets the chance to even find out whether they could ever get anywhere at art. I’ve made a tiny bit of money from it. I’m dirt poor. I buy art materials bit by bit because I can’t afford actual sets of decent materials. I buy camera joblots to get 35mm cameras (most are broken). If I really cared about attention, I wouldn’t waste my pitiful income on any of this stuff.
But I can’t lie and say I don’t want to make money from it. That I’d like to hear I make good stuff. That I’m not a talentless loser.
But life doesn’t work that way. I have no connections in the art world that could ever help me. I often think of my great aunt – a truly wonderful watercolourist who died completely unknown. I lost the one piece of hers I had. It was beautiful.
How many beautiful pieces of art were seen by no one? Too many, I imagine. Too many.