This is how it is for me; I jump with both feet into my work. I churn and burn and I get fairly deep and start to feel like I am on top of the friggin world. I post pics to keep me honest. But the moment they go "live" into the electronic ether I feel the Fear.
The Fear is a big, bad-ass wall of audible furies screaming, "You Suck!" in all their awesome terror and with such authority that I am reduced from Pablo-freaking-Picasso steez to skinny new kid on the first day of school in seconds. The Wall is Fear. The Wall is a lie and I know this, but the Wall is there to keep me on task. It is not by accident that you see the wall facing you in so many of my posts, this is not just documentation.
Anyone undertaking their divine task hears the voices. They tell you you're a no-talent hack, your work is bullshit, you should be embarrassed, who the hell do you think you are? The voices want your ass on the couch watching Glee with your favorite comfort food and a warm blankie. The Fear wants you to deny the Divine purpose within. The Wall whispers you into comfort and conformity and reminds you that you have things to lose.
When I meet the Wall, I hurl paint at it, literally. I'm not a cerebral painter, I'm a savage. My work is not here to comfort you, or amuse you, or soothe you. It is here to wage war on your apathy and your deluded belief that Art and Leisure have jack shit to do with one another. They don't. My art is not ironic, or clever, or nudge-nudge-know-what-I-mean. It screams back at the Universe, "I am here, and I'm standing!" You can come along for that ride or not.
Seeing the pics today, I know I have to take it to the next level. I have to do this right now, right here, and fuck the Wall.
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