GraceNotes

i felt it coming yesterday. right in the middle of the day, with business as usual, good weather and all that. no conflicts, no frustrations, not too many worries. but there it was, like i’d swallowed a cherry stone and it stayed lodged in my chest (well, esophagus, but that’s not very poetic), making it heavy and tight, at the same time. it was fear.

there were no tags for it: money, business, validation, inspiration, quality - and i couldn’t even decide what kind of fear it was: fear to respect, fear to achieve, fear of losing, fear of poverty - or even how to handle it: pay heed, ignore, decipher, ponder. it was just there.

i don’t know how often i feel this way: monthly, with each project, when there are no projects - couldn’t say. i just know that its discomfort made me pay attention, do a little check and balance of what i am about and with whom i am, er, being about.

(maybe it was the dentist appointment. i always get so depressed about my teeth when i have an exam. nah, too easy.)

i do know that the next time it comes to me, i’m going to use it. i can’t say for certain, but getting back to the studio after that dentist appointment, i was energized to make big strides on a project i have that has been dragging on, and i was quite focused and got a lot of work done.

when i admit to being a creative (see earlier post on channeling paul rand) , there seem to be certain things i get to accept about myself, as part of the gift i’ve been given. some of them are: low esteem about my talent or work, a bit of a perfectionist tic, a satchel of frustration, and fear (uncategorized, at this moment).

what am i to do with these? they seem to be here to stay, albeit not hanging out in my subconscious all at once, thank God. but they are constants, and i’m starting to think they aren’t to be “dealt with” to the degree that they go away completely, but, sometimes, heeded. used. for motivation, for inspiration.

some of the greatest and most well-known artists of the last generations i’ve always thought passed for pretty sick tickets, some of them. i can think of one who had jealousy down to an extreme science, one who was incredibly paranoid, one who hated human touch, several who had such low self-esteem they didn’t live to see their art appreciated.

maybe it’s because they gave themselves over to their artistic vices, swam around in them till they were all pruny, which made for fantastic art but not much fun at cocktail parties. do i have to get crazy to achieve “success” as an artist?

i choose not to. i prefer the balance of warm loving family and daily living amongst friends and strangers to the extreme sacrifice to achievel such “successful art” that i become a stranger to all and a friend to my vices. but i’m going to use them. i think they’re there on purpose. and so am i.