Art is an exorcism. I put things onto paper so I don't have to live them, or so that I can stop living them.
Sure, I have stories to tell. There is a narrative running in my head as I paint or draw something, but that's mine, and quite frankly no one else's business or burden.
A sketchbook is a constant presence - I carry one everywhere - it's my pill bottle. But for the most part, they're never meant to be seen, and they don't amount to anything; aren't a part of a project, or a plan for something more involved. I haven't done any finished art for years; haven't called myself a working artist for years. I do art, make art, of a sort, of a utility sort, on a daily basis for my job, but . . .
This project was a great push for me to actually finish something creative. And now I'm feeling hungry for another. Or maybe my demons are getting bigger, and need a more dramatic gesture to exorcise them.
Don't worry about me. I'm okay.
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