Being an artist sucks. In the best possible way.
We get to do what we love, no matter how frustrating and exhausting it is. We pour our aching hearts and joyous souls into everything we create, but we do it knowing that the world will see it and judge us. Despite all the crap talking I do about "artist" types, I'm proud to be one of them. Because behind all of the outer bullshit of fads and followers, we're a genuinely passionate and driven group of individuals who work our butts off to get just a tiny bit closer to pure beauty. Because there is nothing more beautiful than using your hands and your mind and your imagination to say something important or create something that impacts you as a person, and possibly even someone else.
We absolutely kill ourselves, drive ourselves nuts, doing what we do. We complain, and we whine, and we talk about how hard it is to be a starving artist, but at the end of the day we wouldn't have it any other way. We don't know any other way to be. Because true artists live and breathe art. It doesn't matter if you're a painter, an actor, a musician, a writer, a designer, a photographer, or all of the above... you see the world through your own spyglass, finding inspiration in everyday things, and always searching for your next great creation.
There's this magic and beauty about being able to create something that belongs solely to you, from nothing more than an idea, a tiny little thing that no one can see but you. Magical, for sure. It's also exciting. Whether you're a planner through and through or an on the spot, spontaneous creator, something surprising will always happen. Every new creation is like an adventure into completely undiscovered territory. Now granted, the surprises are not always good ones. And for every great painting, photo, or sculpture that we make we've made 100+ awful ones that will never see the light of day. But that's alright. Because every screw-up brings you that much closer to greatness. Of course if we could remember that during the mess-ups and miss-haps our lives would be a lot less frustrating. But also a lot less dramatic and art inspiring.
We are a conundrum. Frustrated with our work, which in turn makes us work harder, creating better, and pushing ourselves farther, elevating the expectations we place on ourselves and therefore raising our frustration level again so that the whole cycle starts over again, and again. It's unending, beautiful, and maddening. And we love it.