As of today my time will begin to rarely be my own. Due to the influx of people that will begin to demand my time and attention for their “important,” projects and desire to aid foster children or families set to lose their children to foster care for past mistakes, lack of work or social aid and education. I will be asked to volunteer my time and patience. This extra work on top of my care-giver duties and the care of goats, I will not be able to wake at my usual 5 a.m, schedule to work on my art and writings.
My articles will have to continue their once a month cycle, which I am sure the fans of my blogs won’t notice. It is the art that might suffer and that stresses me.
I yearn for the day that my output is no longer regulated by my access to privacy, away from the busy bodies who would presume because I don’t participate in their charity works, working a soup kitchen, or building Habitats for Humanity that I am not a productive Christian or citizen. They don’t see me working in a grocery store, a factory, a chicken plant, driving trucks or working for the state road crew, that I am not working. Because I am not going to school, a University, I am not in the military, I am not working. I am not in a restaurant busting tables, or serving drinks in a bar, clerking checks in a bank, I am dead weight and should be available to anyone that calls and says, “ I can’t pay you but can you take time and come work with me?”
I had to delete my files of open information on the computer, to prevent the happen chance, that if those on the land, 77 acres mind you, need to computer, I don’t offend their Christian sensibilities with my lewd, violent, intellectual, graphic art. The day I am able to work uninterrupted, and present works unabashed will be a good one. Of course I personally have never been ashamed of my works, but I am very much aware of the contention that is set to come from my puritan friends.
I would not know what to do with myself if I was able to showcase my works among publishers, advertisers, and lewd art supporters that would see my works and ask for commissions and full time dedication for what I am able to produce. Of course I know what I would do with myself, I would produce. Non-stop, journals filled with ideas, ready for publication in less than 72hrs and articles flowing weekly to feed the imaginations of interested readers and aspiring artists who would not mind collaborating and promoting their own ideas along side my own.
An endless stream of work. An enterprise set to take you all away from your own daily grind and immerse you in the numerous universes built upon the frame work of pleasure and ecstasy.
Why is it so wrong to desire to see the grocery store shelves, which of the moment bore me with the Times Magazine, Southern Living, Vogue, and Home Cooking, filled with my works, @Lewdua , @Tina-Raze, @prywinko, @DellaKitt, @bmesias063, @ShreyaVikram, @ZebraHumor, or any of the numerous and talented creators that have shown me love in the past three years?
Why has it become impossible to believe that what we put our heart into is sound enough to build a citadel upon?
A home is all I really want, but that is too small to dream of. I am the Dream Weaver mind you, and I build and store a lot upon dreams. I dream of my virtual support translating into home discussions about art and a house full of illustrators and artists, writers, devising works that are to be sold, published, and keep my bills paid, so I never have to live in some card board box.
There is an artist in my area by the name of Marcela Slade, who charges 175.00 to teach illustrative techniques. The Art Center charges, 52.00 to teach “Life Drawing,” with an emphasis on nude models. Then there is Kelly Oakes that teaches Painting Portraits, and Mixed Media for 168.00. The Intro to Abstract Painting is 180.00 for six meetings.
And I can’t get one person to buy into my little publications for 1.00-10.00; or I am told charging people 150.00 for a piece of art is too expensive. With this new information about my present competition, I would have to argue with those that would presume, promoting, showcasing, and self-publication is not an active occupation.