This is the editors note from the Art issue of Hipstamatic's Snap magazine.
It really hit me like a ton of bricks what he was saying and the disappointment and disillusion I've had with my "art".
Yeah, that's right, I'm going back to putting that word in quotations.
At least as far as when describing whatever it is that I do.
The reason I believe i "failed" at trying to think i could sell my "art" was it was made without emotion.
Before i had convinced myself that perhaps a mass market might be interested in buying my creations, I thought about each piece i made, if it wasn't just for me, who it was for, as most of the satisfaction I get from making things is when i make things as gifts for other people.
I believe alot of things I made, did illicit emotion from me and from other people. That doesn't necessarily make it worthy of being labeled "art" but it served some functions - self pleasure and satisfaction and warmth and comfort for others.
When faced with the pressure that i had set a deadline on myself to do a market, and i should have at least 30 things to sell, probably, is where i lost the plot.
I unknowingly started the monologue in my head
"will other people like this,
will other people i don't know see any worth in this,
will a mass market like this,
how can i recreate the same thing over and over just so i have an inventory..."
i've now ended up with boxes full of SHIT i know i can never sell but i can't really throw away, because, well, it's "art" or some faction of it. And maybe some day i can rip it apart and make something new from it.
Yeah, I'm bitter that i let myself get to that point where i was just pretty much literally throwing paint on a canvas with some photograph thinking naively someone would see some sort of beauty in it. And because of this, it became ugly. Like the "art" Target or Walmart tries to sell.
Souless. Blasé. just, basically, shit.
It didn't feel good to make, there was no satisfaction or joy.
It was like eating an entire pizza knowing you shouldn't.
You still do it but you're miserable as you're doing it and full or remorse after.
So, i took a six month hiatus. Dust started forming on the tubes of paints and jars of mediums.
Piles of ephemera i kept accumulating for some sick reason transformed the studio into a scene you might see on hoarders.
I couldnt bare to step foot in the studio yet i couldnt stop buying cool stuff i felt like i might use someday.
Obviously and thank god I couldn't give up entirely on myself.
Just needed some time to re-evaluate, analyze, recharge.
Learn to trust my voice or at least have confidence in it again.
And slowly i've started to create some things again. Some things that mildly excite me.
Some things i need to figure out a way to destroy and start again in hope of making something that will excite me.
I am having problems finishing things i start.
Not sure if mentally i'm just trying to keep from creating a FAIL piece again so i just don't finish it.
Self protection i suppose.
I'm truly optimistic that my trip to Africa and Paris will ignite some of that passion again.
Whether it be photography or when i get home with mixed media. Or both.
Maybe some day soon I'll be able to remove those quotes around that three letter word with such a massive weight attached to it.
Lessons are always learned, and obviously i learned a HUGE one this last year.
Can't say i won't repeat it, because we all lose our way every now and then, but at least perhaps i have the skills not to fall so far next time.
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