The other day I responded to a question on DA... in a very long winded way...
I was asked something about what inspired me or how I got started...
I was kind of surprised with what came out. Nothing in itself was new, but something about how it chained together was unique... So I am reposting it here.
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I don't mind talking about anything here, even if it strays off topic, Post anything---say anything it is all fine with me.
I think there are a lot of artists on DA that, (like me) love to engage in conversations about the hows and the whys of their creations. So I hope you can make connections with others as well.
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How did I start? hmmm... well I think there are things about my personality that all together add up to being an artist (at least one type of artist).
I have always asked a lot of questions-I am self absorbed.- I like to observe the world rather than participate in it-I am obsessive and driven by my fixations.- I feel misunderstood and that itch to be understood makes me want to make things. - I am very responsive to tactile prompts.
Art became a nice safe place to explore and express. When I experience pain, or confusion, love.... or hate, I feel like there is a mystery to work out, I pick at my thoughts and feelings through writing or drawing to kind of deconstruct and understand ....
I guess It isn't just all about feelings, I took a hammer to many of my toys as a child because I wanted to see what was inside...knowing was more important to me than the toy... I usually was aware that I wouldn't ever be able to put things back together, but I was doomed the moment I became curious because I don't let go of thoughts easily and eventually I would have a broken toy.
There is skill... and a little bit of natural aptitude, but it has never been about me standing out because I was good at art, more like ....My drawings were different from other children. My drawings were kind of weird. For example, if I drew a tree... in my head I was constantly thinking about how bark felt... or what the tree would be thinking. Sometimes my images were bizarre because I would wander off mentally.
This next part is a little pathetic, but I think necessary to mention... When I was about 10 or 11 I began attaching myself to the identity of being an artist. It made me feel like I was special at a time when I felt lost and dismissible. I didn't know who I was for a while... I was uncomfortable in my skin. I started a Journal around this time... it became an invisible friend and a security blanket a place to fantasize and escape. It was also all mine ... I was in control.
I was terrible with my Journals in High School... I took my Journal everywhere... it became a totem for me. (oh this is so sad to admit... ) I was bad at communicating with people, as a person I was awkward and a bit annoying. You could tell how I felt about someone depending on how I treated my journal around them ... If I held it close to me and never let go of it in your presence ... I didn't trust you... If i left it out on the table and walked away when you were near it , you were a friend... If i asked you to hold on to it or read some portion of it You were in my inner circle... And if I ever asked you to draw anything in it I loved you and considered you family.
In High School, Art good or bad became something tangled in my personality... From there I went to an art college... and that is where I realized that even though I wanted to BE an artist... I wasn't the kind of artist that had shows or worked as an illustrator... I was more obsessive than functional... more dedicated than skilled. ... and social interaction scared me.
SO... from college I picked jobs that didn't inspire me creatively ... specifically because I wanted to keep control of my art... I think that concept actually stopped my growth... without feedback, without other voices and reasons to create ... drawing became like licking a wound for me. It was always there for me but it became more about retreat than exploration.
I have said it here before but... after almost 15 years 0f working 3rd shift in a factory I quit my job (last August) and now I am taking some time to figure out who I am and what I do again.
My Husband (Joe, who I met in college when I was 17 ) is still working at the factory... I feel bad about that... but my goal now its to never work for anyone again... at least not like that. I am going to have to make some money at some point... but (hopefully) that's what Etsy is for...
For now though ... while I still have a savings buffer .... I am going to indulge in being an artist again...
OK that got pretty long...
I told you I was self absorbed...
What about You? Where does your mind go when you make something? what part of your identity is artistic.....your voice?... Do you mainly keep it for yourself?... or is it something you are dying to shout about?
...if you like respond here ... or on your page... but here is my email if you prefer. chobek@gmail.com.
Thanks for the ear and the interest!
I was asked something about what inspired me or how I got started...
I was kind of surprised with what came out. Nothing in itself was new, but something about how it chained together was unique... So I am reposting it here.
___________________________________________________________________
I don't mind talking about anything here, even if it strays off topic, Post anything---say anything it is all fine with me.
I think there are a lot of artists on DA that, (like me) love to engage in conversations about the hows and the whys of their creations. So I hope you can make connections with others as well.
-----------
How did I start? hmmm... well I think there are things about my personality that all together add up to being an artist (at least one type of artist).
I have always asked a lot of questions-I am self absorbed.- I like to observe the world rather than participate in it-I am obsessive and driven by my fixations.- I feel misunderstood and that itch to be understood makes me want to make things. - I am very responsive to tactile prompts.
Art became a nice safe place to explore and express. When I experience pain, or confusion, love.... or hate, I feel like there is a mystery to work out, I pick at my thoughts and feelings through writing or drawing to kind of deconstruct and understand ....
I guess It isn't just all about feelings, I took a hammer to many of my toys as a child because I wanted to see what was inside...knowing was more important to me than the toy... I usually was aware that I wouldn't ever be able to put things back together, but I was doomed the moment I became curious because I don't let go of thoughts easily and eventually I would have a broken toy.
There is skill... and a little bit of natural aptitude, but it has never been about me standing out because I was good at art, more like ....My drawings were different from other children. My drawings were kind of weird. For example, if I drew a tree... in my head I was constantly thinking about how bark felt... or what the tree would be thinking. Sometimes my images were bizarre because I would wander off mentally.
This next part is a little pathetic, but I think necessary to mention... When I was about 10 or 11 I began attaching myself to the identity of being an artist. It made me feel like I was special at a time when I felt lost and dismissible. I didn't know who I was for a while... I was uncomfortable in my skin. I started a Journal around this time... it became an invisible friend and a security blanket a place to fantasize and escape. It was also all mine ... I was in control.
I was terrible with my Journals in High School... I took my Journal everywhere... it became a totem for me. (oh this is so sad to admit... ) I was bad at communicating with people, as a person I was awkward and a bit annoying. You could tell how I felt about someone depending on how I treated my journal around them ... If I held it close to me and never let go of it in your presence ... I didn't trust you... If i left it out on the table and walked away when you were near it , you were a friend... If i asked you to hold on to it or read some portion of it You were in my inner circle... And if I ever asked you to draw anything in it I loved you and considered you family.
In High School, Art good or bad became something tangled in my personality... From there I went to an art college... and that is where I realized that even though I wanted to BE an artist... I wasn't the kind of artist that had shows or worked as an illustrator... I was more obsessive than functional... more dedicated than skilled. ... and social interaction scared me.
SO... from college I picked jobs that didn't inspire me creatively ... specifically because I wanted to keep control of my art... I think that concept actually stopped my growth... without feedback, without other voices and reasons to create ... drawing became like licking a wound for me. It was always there for me but it became more about retreat than exploration.
I have said it here before but... after almost 15 years 0f working 3rd shift in a factory I quit my job (last August) and now I am taking some time to figure out who I am and what I do again.
My Husband (Joe, who I met in college when I was 17 ) is still working at the factory... I feel bad about that... but my goal now its to never work for anyone again... at least not like that. I am going to have to make some money at some point... but (hopefully) that's what Etsy is for...
For now though ... while I still have a savings buffer .... I am going to indulge in being an artist again...
OK that got pretty long...
What about You? Where does your mind go when you make something? what part of your identity is artistic.....your voice?... Do you mainly keep it for yourself?... or is it something you are dying to shout about?
...if you like respond here ... or on your page... but here is my email if you prefer. chobek@gmail.com.
Thanks for the ear and the interest!
