Art is Life
Of course, I went to art school. where else would I go? And then they asked me what my major would be. I chose what felt the most me and what seemed the most responsible in terms of paying rent: photography. But I still wanted to be a painter. Or maybe even something that didn’t have a word or something that was everything. Like Robert Rauschenberg. Painting/silk screen/photo/sculpture. How dare you ask me to play favorites. But I did. Once I bullied my way into a drawing class with the best teacher MICA had to offer, Howie Weiss. He taught me to create work I didn’t believe was in me, always pushing me to find that elusive, makes-no-sense, forget-what’s-supposed-to-happen-on-the-page and do the art I was meant to do. And I did and it was abstract AF and I transcended. And then he remembered I was a photo major and he apologized for thinking I was a real artist.
Maybe there’s an artist living inside you. Maybe you never even tried to make art because you think you should already be good at it, or you worry you weren’t born with that gift. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s all relative. It’s all subjective. I believe art isn’t supposed to be pretty. Nor does not have to look realistic. That’s why we have cameras! Art is meant to express, to evoke feeling, to calm, to enrage. It can be a means unto itself. So, you don’t need to worry if it’s “good.” If you think you want to create something, you should. Just try. Just start. Just put marks on a surface. A paper bag, a canvas. It doesn’t matter. Does it feel good? Awesome. Keep doing it.