Why am i an artist?
Until now i haven't thought into that as much as i should. I used to get angry when someone would call me an artist, " I'm a photographer ! Not an artist." like to be called an artist was slanderous. Still a part of me needed more than flat paper prints, no matter how beautiful and touching, a part of me needed smeared paint, gritty surfaces, slick curved reflections, more than 2-D. I can't help but make things..french toast with homemade wiped cream, mini paperclip sculptures, piles of stones, alters, arrangements of acorns, boxes with photos and specimans from the world. Objects call me to them, begging me to tell their story to the world. The world tugs at me to ingest it and transform it somehow into a language that can't be spoken -a communication of elements themselves raw and unfettered. ok not real sure what that means but it sounded enticing.
I guess I am an Artist because i must be, because creating and transforming the world is like breathing- if ya wanna live ya gotta do it.
With the age of art as it is with no limitations and plethora of possiblities is a blessing and a curse. Like great power comes with great responsiblity etc. I believe it is truly exhilerating and terrifying to have so much knowlege and resource, the only question is what do you do with what you've got?
Monday, January 14, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment