November 15, 2012 § 4 Comments
The last few hours have consisted of my brain whirring away, mulling over different things but not coming to any kind of resolution or conclusion. Dissatisfying and ultimately unproductive.
Unrelated, I picked up my work from that gallery in avondale and I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have those pieces back on my wall. I really missed them. Things feel right with art on the wall, in its proper place. I didn’t sell anything, but that’s not a surprise since I’ve never sold anything. Guess people don’t want pictures of dead children on their walls… wonder why…
I’ve been feeling the creative tug lately. I even looked at art supplies on dick blick yesterday, but couldn’t let myself put the $50 on my credit card. So I didn’t buy anything, but maybe someday, after PhD applications are paid for and I get my student loans, I’ll be able to buy the supplies I need. I’m going to take my work in a different direction, mainly in process/method not subject matter. I want to have more of my hand in my work instead of doing so much with collage. I’m a reasonably talented drawer, so I think I should exhibit that skill. Plus it’s just more personal when you’re looking at work that has a close relationship with an artist’s hand. I think that’s why I don’t like digital art — it doesn’t have the same grit or heart that a work created by flesh, muscle, bone has. I almost justified buying more art supplies by saying that it would help my PhD application stand out, since I’m including pictures of my work in most of my applications. Art historians who also work in the studio are rare and that might be the only angle I can take that will help me stand out. I hate that feeling when you realize you aren’t remarkable, that you’re at most above average which is why you’re so rarely noticed.
The slim part of class I was mentally awake for the other day included a brief mention of a Japanese artist who kept a travel journal in which he would draw the places that he went, the people he saw on his trips. I would love to do that, but I’m so lazy. Right now I could be drawing, but instead I’m alternating writing this entry and staring at my blank ceiling. There’s a strip of what looks like dry wall tape that goes from one wall to the other, but they didn’t put it on correctly so it has all these areas that have wrinkles or are peeling away from the rest of the ceiling on one side. I can’t decide if there is some kind of electrical wire that the tape is covering or if they really were so inept when they put it on that it’s just one long wobbly wrinkle. There are a few smooth areas that make me think the latter…
I’ve only slept a few hours this whole week. Stupid insomnia. I can function alright if I have enough coffee, but my brain feels dull and disconnected for most of the day. Usually singing helps me feel better; it improves my bad moods and helps my heart beat slow down to something resembling a normal pulse. But today as I was belting some song out in the shower, I realized all the songs I know by heart are depressing. Most of these songs have been my go to’s for more than ten years, but maybe I’ve just been depressed for that long. When am I going to be happy? When am I going to finally feel satisfied with my life? I think the worst thing about growing up is that adults actually tell you how unhappy they are instead of pretending like life gets better when the other kids stop picking on you and making fun of you for having the wrong style shoes or a dumb halloween costume or whatever. Once I got out of high school and certainly now that I’m out of college, people are so honest with me about how unhappy they are in their lives. If people twice my age are unhappy, what hope do I have? How can I have hope when I look at how unhappy my dad is? I don’t have some great ending to look forward to, some cozy plateau that I’ll hit after I make the grad school and career climb. I have a lifetime of depression to look forward to. What’s really funny about it is that I might have a chance at happiness if I agreed to be medicated, but after watching all that my dad went through (and as a result, all that my family went through) as he tried antidepressant after antidepressant, I refuse to do that. He was like a totally different person sometimes, depending on what meds were in his system or what meds he was in withdrawal from. I don’t want to go through that and I definitely don’t want to put anyone around me through what we went through. Of course it could have been worse, I know that. But it could have been a lot better too. Things could be better now. Things could have been and could always be better. But that doesn’t mean I think hope is realistic.
I have no idea where this entry is going. I didn’t intend for it to get quite so Debbie Downer. I’ve really got to get these PhD programs sorted out. After that, I’ll have done all I can do. I’ll be forced to move on.