I had a dear, sweet friend ask me the other day why this blog looks like “articles.” It was an excellent question, as I originally set it up to capture my random thoughts and never cared if anyone but my closest friends read it. It’s evolved to being about art, or rather, my take on the subject. Maybe it’s an attempt at taking an unpaid turn at being an art critic, though I doubt it since I haven’t really used it to criticize anyone. Still, there are things that confuse me about artists, especially the amateur kind.
Since this is still my space and few (other than those I write about) ever read it, I figured I’d post a few confessions here.
- I don’t understand tripods. Are they phallic symbols? Do many photographers have Parkinson’s? Are there private winds–lovely, warm, summer zephyrs that only blow on the privileged few but which cause cameras to shake? Do those 10 ounces strain grown men’s muscles? I don’t get it. I have 2 tripods. I’ve used one, twice. There was no wind, so I put it back in the car. Here’s an idea: PUT THE DAMN TRIPOD DOWN AND TAKE SOME F***ING PHOTOS. If they’re blurry, you need MORE PRACTICE. Practice (without a tripod.) There, that’s better.
- I LOVE music, but most singers can’t sing. They can’t. Listen closely.
- I’ve only complimented 3 celebrities (musicians) on Twitter. All 3 tweeted back a sincere thank you almost immediately. That made me feel more human.
- I sometimes pretend to struggle because it seems to piss people off that I find what I do easy. I only tell my wife the truth (and now, you).
- I’ve never had writers block and there is no such thing as photographers block.
- If you ask me, I’ll tell you I hate classical music, except that I’m listening to it now and often do. My brain doesn’t know what my … inner brain likes.
- I go to museums to see the people who go to museums.
- I’d trade every bit of talent I have to be a 1) singer or 2) painter.
- I believe there is an inverse relationship between the number of likes and followers a blogger has and their talent. I’ve spent the last 5 months trying to get people to stop following my blogs. They haven’t; obviously, I’m mediocre.
- Readers get in the way of writing. Not having readers is even worse.
- I like my work, but generally for only around 30 minutes at a time before I start to hate it again. What I think is good changes, and is random. I’m prolific only because it sucks so often. I keep at art because for those 30 minutes a day (week?) I think I’m fucking brilliant.
- I’m tone-deaf with my poetry. Can’t stand it.
- I estimate I’ve looked at 10 million photos in my life, including every photography book in every library I’ve ever been in. None of them ever rubbed off on me.
- I am an absolute photo snob. Completely.
- I am a music whore. If it’s good, I like it.