As of late I have been feeling a bit out of sorts. And, well, a bit discouraged. Well nigh, useless at moments.
Some of you know this and some you don't. I sculpt. Stone. I love to take million year old chunks of rock and carve them into something beautiful. Something to show off the streaks and veins of the marble. Take it, celebrate it, and make it into a form that exults it even more. Sculptures are labor intensive. They take hours and hours to make. The stone is expensive and the tools are expensive. But I love it enough to do it, one could say that I am compelled to do it.
Several of my pieces were in a gallery for about three years. They collected dust. They did not sell. Not a single one. When I collected them, one of the other artists asked me if I wanted the monthly sales sheets. I looked at the stack of empty 81/2 x 11 sheets of paper and shrugged. She smiled graciously and said,
"Okay, I'll destroy the evidence."
They are now sitting in the corner of my kitchen, behind the kitchen table. I didn't have the heart to put them back in the basement.
Some of you know this and some of you don't. I paint. Mostly trees. I love taking something from nature and presenting in a new way. Cutting out details and giving you a pure soothing image. Something in me compells me to do it
My paintings are up in a hostel in Salida and in a sandwich shop, Biggie's, in BV town. Both are good venues for my work. I sell a painting every few months. I get a lot of comments on how much people like it, but very few people but their money where their mouth is.
I hope all of you know this. I blog. I blog because I like it. I walk around narrating my life, thinking of ways to describe what I am feeling and going through. Ways to reach out to other people and say, 'do you feel like this too?' I am compelled to do it.
I have been feeling a bit discontented with my blog. I started with the name redearthsafari because we were living in Kenya and I loved the idea that we were moving from a place characterized by it's red rocks to a place characterized by it's red dirt. I love red too, it's such a powerful color, so full of so much meaning. And of course, safari, swahili for journey. I am no longer journeying in the classic sense, but isn't life always a journey. So I have been thinking about changing the name. The best we've come up with is Stone Soup, but there is already a stonesoup.com. If you've noticed I have changed the template over and over again, like one of those dis-satisfied days where you change your clothes ten times before settling on your old standards. I find myself perusing other's blogs, admiring their photographs, winging over how their's look so much cooler than mine. I have blog envy.
I have a kid. A lovely sweet, bright, beautiful, time sucker of a child. I swear it's like I exist in a vacuum. Hours and days just get sucked out without me even realising it.
So here I am: a sculptor, painter, writer, and toddler chaser. Scott and I spent a full day talking about my problem. I love to do these things; nay, I am compelled to do them, I don't really get paid for them. And I have no idea if I am doing anything of lasting value. But I can't get all these stinking ideas out of my head. I feel like I am throwing things out into the void, with no idea of the return or effect. Honestly I am getting to a point where I am wondering if I am any good at any of this crap. I think the conclusion of the day was to just do it when I have time. Don't focus on whether or not I am bringing in money or how many comments I get on my blog, just do it. For whatever it's worth.
Georgia O'Keefe said that being an artist meant you always felt as if you walked on the edge of a knife. Maybe this is what she meant?