I’m not sure why I was invited, I consider myself the least creative of all the creative people I know.
I’ve done some paint can stuff and take photos, but looking back, I think I was trying harder to be the kind of person who does this kind of thing, than finding any satisfaction in doing so. I work with borrowed ideas and existing work, not at all creative in the “creation” sense.
I find it a shame too, I am insanely jealous of those who are. Even the worst art (courtesy of Tracey Emin) impresses me because it went through a process of any number of steps, several of which I can only imitate… poorly. It made a shift, inside the artist’s mind, from one medium to the next, without losing power.
The only purpose of art, I feel, is to give insight in that process- a glimpse of the artist’s reasoning. Some might try to tell you, you can interpret art any way you like, but clearly that’s bullshit. Clearly, the author had some idea, some reasoning behind his work and the only way you could dislike said work, is to misunderstand the thoughts behind it, or strongly disagree with them. It’s any artist’s first defense against criticism, “They didn’t understand.” And he gets to decide that kind of thing.
My friend stumbled across a website that helps you create real-life paper objects from digital 3D models. He is now working on a life-sized torso of a man seemingly crawling out of and up his wall.
It is amazing.
It made me think what else this website could be used for. What other, out-of-the-box tricks could be pulled with it? But the more I thought about it, the louder a voice whispered, “You are imitating… poorly.” Like how a rebel looks up to Ché Guevara, like a small dog looks up at a bigger dog, the reaction was perfect in its predictability and lack of inspiration.
So I write, the least creative of all creative things. It doesn’t need nonsense like “inspiration” or a “creative process”. It’s a far more direct method of sharing the ideas masked behind those and doesn’t leave much room for interpretation, which of course leaves you naked to criticism since you can’t claim anyone “misunderstood.”
No one will every buy, or sit in awe at my writing, and it’s probably a far cry from the feelings of reward a genuine artist must experience, but it’s an output nonetheless.
I don’t read much –if at all- so I can’t be accused of imitating. Illiteracy as an excuse for intellect- perhaps my creation lies in the excuses I conjure up to elevate mediocrity into heaven. I’m good at that, at least.
I must believe in it though, to be writing this? Surely I must assume it to have some value, and should be published? At least I’m not asking money for it, lacking the nerve to make people acknowledge the value of my work- something I’ve been struggling with throughout my career. I admit, every time I browse my WordPress stats I hope I grew rich and famous overnight, but I know better by now- Knock on wood.
Perhaps I should work on having my last paragraph summarize my point. I heard it’s a thing.
How’s this for a summary: I somehow managed to make the above all about me. That wasn’t my intention, actually…
You know what I’m gonna do?
I’m gonna stop referring to myself as an introvert. It comes up in conversation sometimes, where I try to explain something from my perspective “as an introverted person.” And every time I do, I feel like I’m taking a step backwards.
I sensed similar effects when I wanted to be a stage technician, or photographer. Selling yourself short sets you back from your goals. Define yourself as who you want to be, and it will be a lot easier to become it.
Not that it’s such a disaster being introverted, or that I want to escape it so badly. It has its merits. But the irony never escapes me when I’m excitedly gesticulating in my explanation and out come the words, “I’m introverted like that too, so that’s why…”
If the others don’t mentally call bullshit at that point, at least I do.
I am no longer introverted like I used to be. I am not socially handicapped anymore. Not as sociophobic as I once was. It’s a slow transition but I have to call it some day, right? Might as well be now.
I just don’t want to be that person anymore. My ex was very surprised when she suggested I might have traces of Asperger syndrome in me, and I was insulted. I didn’t go through all this bullshit throughout the years to hear that.
Yes, I am a little shy at first, especially around crowds or attractive women. That’s what it’s called: A little shy. Not Asperger. And even if I did, it can be escaped and I damn well fucking will.