November 14th, 2018

What Made You Become An Artist

Sitting down and telling your story can be a difficult thing for some of us: Not because of lack of ability to write or communicate. Those skills come easy to me but sharing myself doesn't. So answering questions about my art like: What's it mean? Seems to lead me into abstract art. A form of art I never liked probably for that exact reason. It's vagueness. Yet fractal art inspires me creating it because it's about color, mood, tone an they way our universe is set up. It's personal yet I don't have to get into personal questions.



Experiences early on in my life taught me opening up an actually telling my story was scary to live through. So I only told the full thing to a few select poor souls: It was usually my sister who was ready to pull her ears off, grasping for the door to get away an begging me to shut up. She needed sleep! LOL Because once I start talking to someone I trust: I just don't shut up. It's a family trait. My dad would rattle my grandmothers ear off, then she'd call me an do the same to me. I'd get off the phone an my ear would actually hurt from being on it so long. Yet, it's rare for any of us to even begin to tell our truth to another. Fear of hurting another feelings, not wanting to fight or argue, make yourself look bad or others look bad all seems to be at the root of why I'm so reluctant to tell my story. Yet, I want to tell it to inspire others who going through difficult situations. Life's hard at times. People are human. But you can over come things you never thought you would. My whole life is a testament to that.


Things I thought I'd never get over. I have. Some through sheer will.


Others because I believe profoundly that the mind is a powerful thing. It can shape your whole life from a very early age. Ways you haven't even thought about since you where little. It can guide you out of harms way an protect you even from yourself when it's not functioning at it's best. That's how powerful a tool it is that's been given to us. An yet getting at the heart of someones mind: Their story is deeply personal. And I didn't expect part of being an artist would be for me to tell my. But it is.


Just the question of “What made you want to become or be an artist”?


Dredges up dread answering it... because I really have sat an thought about why the hell I couldn't stop being one. It's seem to have cause me all kinds of problems in relationships and financially. Plenty of misunderstandings. It can be at times a very volital rocky road to follow: an others don't seem to understand why you spend so much time on it on top of other things. Most seem to look at you with a little pity that your burdening yourself with an extra task in life on top of your regular nine to five job, the kids, lack of money for it etc. Others don't seem to have this monkey on their back that says you have to create something on top of what you already have to get done in your daily life. All I can tell them is I'm sorry. It's a drive in me that's been in me from as far back as I can remember. Good or bad at it, I have to get better at it an that takes time, practice and patience. I've had to ask myself personally what made you want to become an artist? Especially when it's such a difficult life at times. Why can't you just give it up an enjoy life like others do?


I had to sit an really ask myself since it's been in me from a very young age when did you know you wanted to be an artist? Or when did you KNOW you where an artist. Since I couldn't remember ever NOT being an artist: the answer was startling. At least to me.


I KNEW I was an artist at the age of maybe two if I was lucky to be that old.
The very first time I was beat by my mother.


I remember the euphoria of drawing all over a wall. The time it took me. How proud of it I was. All the colors I used. How my dad would be proud of me for knowing all the names of the colors. How big I could make it. How beautiful it was. And how I was just about finished with it and going to get my mommy to show her when she walked in. That's how long I've been an “artist”. My mothers reaction was NOT what I expected. It commenced into my first all out beating by her. It had been effecting my career. My whole life.


That's how power the mind can be.


All my years doing art, my whole life doing art: I always planned for the worst possible reaction. It didn't matter how many good reactions I had to it. That reaction of being beat for it stuck in my head. Even if I had forgotten about it a long time ago. It was like how grow dog will over react to a thunderstorm cause it had gone through one at certain stage of being a puppy. I have to have things just so to do art. So much so, I went into management to avoid it as a career. So all my financial ducks stayed in a row. Took SAFE over risk. I was taught being myself is a risk. People aren't always going to react they way you expect them to. Don't rely on it no matter how good you are or the art. An of course you have all the naysayers that discourage you from following it as a career path on top of that.


But I tell you what, if I had to do it over. I'd still scribbled all over that wall.


It's just a part of who I am: An artist. I honestly can not help it or stop myself from wanting and being creative. It's a drive in me worthy of risking a little rejection. An that story of being beaten for coloring on the wall is comical to me now but when I first remembered it: Answering that question of when did you first know or want to become an artist sent me into a major depression. I laugh about it now cause that was the worst rejection I was every going to go through. My mind had finally pin pointed why I was fearful of an artistic career. An once it had done that it was a lot easier for me to go to work as one or in an artistic field.


It's just one of the reasons I think the mind is incredible.


It will get you past a trauma until you a ready to deal with it's root cause. There is apart of me not really wanting to tell my story because I don't want to villain-fie my parents as I tell my story. Especially since one is dead: my father. His legacy is important to me. An better parts of him be remembered. My mother is older an we all grew past the past. But there are parts of my story: My parents where villains.


I'm sure I'm not the only kid that received an spanking for coloring on something they where not suppose to. Yet, I can't deny it was a beating. I mean I really let that wall have it! Ass whooping is a understatement! Ha! Ha! I joke things off a lot but also had to come to grips with a part of my childhood that was traumatic to move past what was holding me back.


I suffer from PTSD because of it. Depression at times as well. It's not a story I care to share very much because you can move past it. I did. My parents did. Our relationships healed. They weren't hopeless.


Once you have moved past it. It's not something you tend to like to revisit.
But you have to if it's effecting your health, life, relationships an career.


My hope is that my story will inspire someone out there that's gone through it, going through it or in an abusive situation to put an end to it. Ask yourself why you don't like doing something. Or do like doing something. Or keep finding yourself avoiding people, things.......lol careers or a simple question even. Then let your mind guide you to the answer. It will if you let it, heal you.