Although I knew it existed since I was a child, that wonderful ride around the corner full of excitement and promise, I didn't anticipate jumping on it with such abandon in my later years.
The art world is full of ups and downs, frightening turns and thrilling highs and I would not necessarily wish it on anyone who is not brave enough to stand in the very long cue to get on. As artists, we worry, we stress, we work in almost complete isolation. We enter competitions against literally thousands of other hopefuls, we spend more money than we have on supplies, we put our hearts, souls, and guts out there for everyone to see and judge. We approach countless publishers, galleries, ANYONE who will just please notice our work. Please. We make very little money (unless the chosen few are successful) with all the hours we put into our craft, we withstand or painfully feel the criticism and seek praise, acceptance or even adulation. We are the sensitive ones. We are the people who "see" what many don't and then place our interpretations out for the rest of the world to understand. We paint, we sculpt, we photograph. We create. Today something really wonderful happened. I was researching the net for photos past and present, of ordinary people,and stumbled across some really amazing London street photographs by Paul Bence. What a talent this man is. I have never met him and yet through his photographs I felt as if I knew him. He captured people, all ages, sizes, colour and creed so poignantly that it practically moved me to tears. You see, I decided to paint my own street photographs over a year ago, which in many ways is quite a novel idea. Lately I have been on the scary part of that ride, wondering if perhaps I had taken a wrong turn. Thanks to Paul Bence, I know I have not. I have a story to tell, I know in my heart that I must continue to do this in spite of the steep ride down. My paintings may not be especially pretty or decorative; they may not sell for thousands of pounds or even hang in a decent gallery. But by God they will leave my mark behind when I go. There's no getting off the ride now, only desire and fear and passion to pull me through as I continue along my path.
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AuthorJust little old me, fitting into this little old world. :-) Archives
November 2017
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