Those who know me well know that I don’t play it safe. Ever. I have gambled with my life time and again, and those standing by could only dread the obvious outcome that I would soon suffer. And suffer I did, but have never been sorry for it. The aftermath of myself doing stupid things has never taught me to quit doing stupid things. It has only taught me to quit caring about what others think in reference to me and all the stupid things.
I think the biggest possible “stupid thing” I have ever done is choosing to not care about my future and how I was going to end up. I have never cared for the fact that many expected me to exist within failure pool as an artist. I have had to hear the fact that 95% of artists don’t “make it” from so many people! Finally I got so fed up, that I never wanted to hear it again, and would not allow a single peep from anyone on the subject.
I had been carrying with me a deeper sense of success, and although I didn’t know what exactly it would look like, I knew it did not fit the mold of pop-culture. My real question has been, “What really constitutes making it”? Who draws the line and who is the bearer of the one true ruler by which all others are measured in the making-it world?
I sit with myself this morning, drinking coffee, listening to Mozart radio on Pandora, thinking about my upcoming art show. The idea of success or failure is so far from the horizons that I can touch with my mental radar that I don’t even know how to talk about it. Let my art show be whatever it ends up being. If I make $75 dollars, I’ll be happy because that’s what I need to pay for supplies.