lately (sometimes) i’ve been feeling like i wish i could go to art school. which is weird and so wrong. i hate the douchey hipster art crowds around new england and the art schools out here are lame but really what i’m consumed with is this unrelenting urge to create and this constant, gnawing frustration with my inability to do so. it’s not like i’m all ‘oh i’m so creative and overflowing with fabulous and magnificent impulses to make art!’ it’s just…
god, i don’t even know how to explain it properly, you know? and the art school in my mind is all mixed media and studios/ware house rooms with various types of natural light and limitless supplies and opportunity and space…and…it probably doesn’t even exist in the real world, you know? and definitely not in mine.
i just feel so constrained. i have images and ideas and all sorts of vague creations swirling around in my head until they get bigger and bigger and start pushing at the edges of my skull and stretching out my brain until it feels like they will burst out on their own whether i’m ready or not. clawing and clamoring and gnashing their way out.
i feel like i never finish the things i start. ever. which is also uber fucking frustrating. i’m sick of seeing these seemingly-simple artistic crafty things that everyone else is doing and finding them so fascinating and fabulous and spending money on them when it makes me have these stabbing pains of ridiculous internal guilt like: why are you spending money on that stuff when you should be doing it yourself?
that’s not so self-involved or whatever as to discount anyone else’s artistic prowess…but i don’t think i’m trying hard enough at all, you know? and sometimes i can’t even begin to start because it’s so maddening to not be able to just close my eyes and project the images in my head onto paper or canvas or sculpture or whatever…
why can’t my mind and my hands cooperate?
but i’m probably psyching myself up and psyching myself out all in the same go. because, who the fuck am i to think i could paint or draw or sculpt or whatever, right? lord knows if i were really in a place where i had to create art or had to write or had to craft then i would not be able to do anything but, right?
because if you’re really trying to convince yourself you’re, say, a writer…then you can’t do anything but write?
right?
i just don’t know. i have itchy fingers, man. itchy fuckin’ fingers.
