I was sure I saw it. It seem kind of like a glimpse. Like small lights flashing at the edge of my eyes. It isn't the first time either. Every time I turn to check my peripheral vision, it is gone.
It's late and I need to get some sleep. But not before I finish this piece. I'm thinking the composition is great, but I cannot seem to connect or find what the art is trying to express and portray in its every stroke.
There, that's it, those thick lines. I like black thick ink. Or at least the imitation of it. But the strokes seem a little too sharp. Something simply doesn't add up to it all, I think I am going to take a break. Surf the internet a little bit. Take my mind off things. Maybe get some inspiration going who knows. This work sure doesn't pay well, but it is all I have ever loved doing.
"New film coming in theaters near you," ha, does anyone even go to the cinema anymore? Paying to watch these things with a bunch of immature audiences flocking around you? Hurrying and rushing to get a ticket and grab a good seat. Paying for an experience a bunch of lame fucks will piss all over because hey, fuck logic. They too payed to be there but are obviously more keen on focusing on useless shit like the screen of their phones or a conversation they started before getting into the cinema because god forbid they wait 2 hours to continue it later.
Why not simply stay home and experience the film in the complete comfort, silence and respect of your own couch? Inside is safe anyway. I sound like those nuts that never leave their home. But then again, why would I want to share a moment with all those out there? No need, online banking, online ordering, and everything I need at the tip of my fingers. Shit, I am a little like those nuts that never leave their home. So much separates us though. Some fear confrontation, I simply don't like people. There is a difference there. Besides, I think I've seen a film like this one before. Feels like they keep making the same things again and again.
Hmmm, another trailer sitting right there practically looking at me. Some 15 minutes have already spanned, good enough for a break, and I know if I click on it this will be the end of me. Ahhh what the hell, its only one more trailer, I'll click on it anyway. Hey, maybe this will get some of my inspiration going right?
Wait, is that, a new season of Game of Thrones? A little soon it seems.
Wait, is that, a new season of Game of Thrones? A little soon it seems.
Why do I feel I've also seen this? That's not right. I know I never bothered to read the book, so why does it seem so familiar?
Well no point looking for inspiration at what is already tried and used, let me see what else there is here.
Sure enough, two hours later and I have gone from trailers to interviews to fail videos and now I am looking at cats. I am worse than all those mindless sheep out there I bash on. Or at least the same. Cats? I think I even skimmed by a cooking video at some point. People these days, they will upload anything and everything they can possibly conjure to waste your time and get a couple views. Talk about attention seeking. Then again, how am I any different? Isn't art a means of attention itself? No, I am different. I do this because I love it. Its a completely different thing.
Ok, time to get some work done.
An empty digital canvas looking back at me. I was sure I had done some form of a sketch to work on. Nothing there. Blank. That's not right.
They say reading and viewing creative work, or anything for that matter, brings inspiration. Just get in there, anywhere, and it should click something on some level. Done that. Nothing. Not a single idea. Why does it seem so hard? I love doing this. I have been an artist for years. Granted it was a slightly different thing my whole life being in traditional art. But my transition to digital art was in no way a bad experience. Its cleaner. More controlled. It gives me control and with that control I can create that perfect next thing. My coming artwork is going to blow them away.
This sure is one empty canvas though.
Have I? ... No, that is absurd.
But, what if? What if I actually don't love this anymore? Am I forcing myself to keep going on this because it's all I know? Because it's all I am used to? Too scared of failure perhaps, but even more scared at the thought that this is not actually for me. And too scared to admit I need to back down from it at last? What will all those that supported me think of this? Whatever you do, the cliche of "it wasn't really something for me" is perceived as a failure to their eyes. Regardless of the truth.
Even when it truly isn't that way, they still see even less than what they understand. Even if it is simply a learning process of finding ones' own self. Even if it was the single greatest journey to you, being an artist, and as each journey with beginning it is one with an end there to simply teach you more of yourself as well as bring you to the next journey, people still don't see it that way. They simply understand it as a failure.
It could have been all along a process that simply served as a compass to your own personal discovery. Why should backing down be a bad thing if it brings you to new doors to walk through? Ultimately it is not really backing down. Humph, now I sound like those other nuts fixated on self discovery.
When did peoples opinions ever matter? When did they reach the point that they started to control me? I used to be strong. I went out there, did my thing, and I did it well. I was young perhaps, nothing to lose. Now, time is passing, and I sure ain't getting any younger. Age. What a ridiculous notion. A count of how many times we circle around that boring blunt immovable mass of a body we call a sun.
What am I saying? I know me. I am simply finding excuses once more to simply not work. Excuses to doubt myself. Excuses to procrastinate some more. And now I am talking to myself again. Seems I've been doing it for hours, it only became apparent to me now.
I simply do not have a single shred of inspiration right this moment to draw from. Nothing at all. Creative block they call it. Sure. I am starting to think this is the normal. The block is not the occasion, it is simply the normal state of being. Art now seems like the condition, not the normal. Something that occurs apparently only when the stars remember to align.
And there it goes. Now I know I am bullshitting myself, just to rationalise my empty and lack of drive right now. Once, creating was so natural to me. Now, bills to pay, mouths to feed, and what was once a joy to me is now simply work. Maybe that is the problem. I don't do it for the fun of it anymore. I say I love it and do it for me, but peoples opinions in the end matter more. I am simply lying to myself. Maybe that's the problem. Or maybe this is yet just another excuse.
Its past 3 in the morning and I am still talking to myself. I could keep this going to 4, or even 5. And for what? If inspiration hadn't knocked on my door in the last 3 weeks it wont make a difference now to end this conversation with myself prematurely and head off some hours earlier this time. I look at that canvas on my monitor and still nothing. And I am still talking to myself. I'm calling it a night.
There! There it went again! That flash. Maybe I just need to rest my eyes. Thats' it, take off those glasses. Rub into those eyes, aaah yes, that sure feels good. Turn off this mechanical waste of a PC that once brought me my living and is now living off me, and take a moment to reflect. Not that I need it, that is all I have been doing of late. Reflecting.
You know, when I was younger I used to think souls inhabit our surrounding, some are ghosts, the bad kind or the lost kind perhaps. Some even the creative muses each artist wishes to be comforted with. I used to think that at the edge of our sight, right there within our peripheral vision, the fabric between two worlds thinned and you could catch a glimpse of them floating about. Quickly dashing past you in a flicker.
I used to think that wearing glasses and having a weaker peripheral vision made me more susceptible to the presence of those muses as an artist.
What a load of horses shit. I used to think a lot of things. Maybe I'm cynical, or maybe I just fucking grew up.
The doctors tell me I strain my eyes too much, especially with the late hours I sleep and the constant focus on that single monitor before me. It makes sense. Every time I strain myself they come. My eyes telling me its time to give it a rest. The doctor was not much pleased with my childish story of these two worlds either when I was young, and implored me to get some sunlight each day. I do my best. Occasionally I become quite the creature fond of night, but then I always come back to the light regardless. I guess if I want to get some of that boring sun tomorrow I should call it a night after all.
Is that? Wait, someone just left the building. But its not even 4. Who is it?
I don't see anyone in the street. Its probably the neighbour from the top floor. Another crazy bitch. Or was it a guy? I barely remember. Haven't seen my neighbours for a while now. Gets these late night to early morning urges and simply bursts out of the building. Who knows to where. I don't see anything in the street though. It is all empty. Maybe I should befriend him. Teach him of the lack of need to leave the building altogether. That would be funny.
Bed feels cold, and I am still talking to myself. And what of it? Its the only way I don't feel as lonely as I truly am. Sometimes it gets to me. Not too often though. For the most part I do a great job. I have become my own best friend. We talk about a lot of things, me and I. Definately one of the easier ways to fall asleep at night.
Its not working this time. This rarely happens, feeling so alone that my desperation has me conjure entities living here with me in the dark. And those lights, they still flicker a little bit but getting better now. I really strained myself today. Eyes heavy and ready to drift away. I could swear I am not alone.
Those should be my last thoughts of comfort before I doze off...
...It's almost done. Got up surprisingly early today. Before noon was it? Didn't expect this but I had a strange urge, like those of old, to simply just draw. No, not the next perfect thing, but good enough none the less.
It's almost done. Not much of an inspiration really, I just thought I turn my silly thoughts to myself into images.
A man, sitting in front of his monitor. Dark lit room around him. In the shadow, eyes and vague flashes are watching over him. What a strange parody my life has become. I am now drawing that sad little life and thoughts of mine as a last draw for inspiration. But regardless, I kind of like it. It looks great actually. Its a part of me, and that is as honest as I will ever be.
Been a whole afternoon. I just logged in again. Not a single glimpse of interest or feedback. Why do I even bother posting my work? Does anyone even give a shit to see it? Well there was one old colleague I barely even talk to anymore. And this was his way of saying hello? "Ummm, what is it?"
I kid you not. I am not replying obviously. What a jerk. I create horror and science fiction dude, what the fuck does it look like? A darkness and something in it beyond. Does it need an explanation? Does it need a name?
Yeah whatever, I'll reply to him why not. "I call it Flicker!". There, hows that for a name. Now buzz off.
And that's that, I don't get a single other comment from him after that. Good!
I don't care, I done my part. Taking the day off now. Would have been nice to get some sort of a feedback though I guess. Maybe would have kept me going for a second piece today. Who am I kidding? It took me 3 weeks for that one and it wasn't even something special. Regardless, what did I expect? People with art are like goldfish. If you stop spamming their attention for one day they forget you even exist.
I'm shutting down. Taking a walk in that lazy sun I am supposed to be keeping in touch with. Then back to browse through some of my favourite shows perhaps, maybe I will eventually put myself to sleep with a film. Maybe I will be rid of that flicker for tonight as well, I know I didn't strain my eyes that much today so that's a plus.
Bed sheets are cold, but that makes for a better way to doze off as I warm them up. Damn this winter. I think it's raining too now.
Another day gone. And I am still not getting any younger.
Just before I close my eyes, another flicker. What irony, even with little stress I have clearly messed my eyes so bad I still get a small dose of it for today.
Nothing to think of it, it's only normal with the abuse I put myself through. I think nothing of it, and sleep on it eventually. On all of it.
Its past 3 in the morning and I am still talking to myself. I could keep this going to 4, or even 5. And for what? If inspiration hadn't knocked on my door in the last 3 weeks it wont make a difference now to end this conversation with myself prematurely and head off some hours earlier this time. I look at that canvas on my monitor and still nothing. And I am still talking to myself. I'm calling it a night.
There! There it went again! That flash. Maybe I just need to rest my eyes. Thats' it, take off those glasses. Rub into those eyes, aaah yes, that sure feels good. Turn off this mechanical waste of a PC that once brought me my living and is now living off me, and take a moment to reflect. Not that I need it, that is all I have been doing of late. Reflecting.
You know, when I was younger I used to think souls inhabit our surrounding, some are ghosts, the bad kind or the lost kind perhaps. Some even the creative muses each artist wishes to be comforted with. I used to think that at the edge of our sight, right there within our peripheral vision, the fabric between two worlds thinned and you could catch a glimpse of them floating about. Quickly dashing past you in a flicker.
I used to think that wearing glasses and having a weaker peripheral vision made me more susceptible to the presence of those muses as an artist.
What a load of horses shit. I used to think a lot of things. Maybe I'm cynical, or maybe I just fucking grew up.
The doctors tell me I strain my eyes too much, especially with the late hours I sleep and the constant focus on that single monitor before me. It makes sense. Every time I strain myself they come. My eyes telling me its time to give it a rest. The doctor was not much pleased with my childish story of these two worlds either when I was young, and implored me to get some sunlight each day. I do my best. Occasionally I become quite the creature fond of night, but then I always come back to the light regardless. I guess if I want to get some of that boring sun tomorrow I should call it a night after all.
Is that? Wait, someone just left the building. But its not even 4. Who is it?
I don't see anyone in the street. Its probably the neighbour from the top floor. Another crazy bitch. Or was it a guy? I barely remember. Haven't seen my neighbours for a while now. Gets these late night to early morning urges and simply bursts out of the building. Who knows to where. I don't see anything in the street though. It is all empty. Maybe I should befriend him. Teach him of the lack of need to leave the building altogether. That would be funny.
Bed feels cold, and I am still talking to myself. And what of it? Its the only way I don't feel as lonely as I truly am. Sometimes it gets to me. Not too often though. For the most part I do a great job. I have become my own best friend. We talk about a lot of things, me and I. Definately one of the easier ways to fall asleep at night.
Its not working this time. This rarely happens, feeling so alone that my desperation has me conjure entities living here with me in the dark. And those lights, they still flicker a little bit but getting better now. I really strained myself today. Eyes heavy and ready to drift away. I could swear I am not alone.
Those should be my last thoughts of comfort before I doze off...
...It's almost done. Got up surprisingly early today. Before noon was it? Didn't expect this but I had a strange urge, like those of old, to simply just draw. No, not the next perfect thing, but good enough none the less.
It's almost done. Not much of an inspiration really, I just thought I turn my silly thoughts to myself into images.
A man, sitting in front of his monitor. Dark lit room around him. In the shadow, eyes and vague flashes are watching over him. What a strange parody my life has become. I am now drawing that sad little life and thoughts of mine as a last draw for inspiration. But regardless, I kind of like it. It looks great actually. Its a part of me, and that is as honest as I will ever be.
Been a whole afternoon. I just logged in again. Not a single glimpse of interest or feedback. Why do I even bother posting my work? Does anyone even give a shit to see it? Well there was one old colleague I barely even talk to anymore. And this was his way of saying hello? "Ummm, what is it?"
I kid you not. I am not replying obviously. What a jerk. I create horror and science fiction dude, what the fuck does it look like? A darkness and something in it beyond. Does it need an explanation? Does it need a name?
Yeah whatever, I'll reply to him why not. "I call it Flicker!". There, hows that for a name. Now buzz off.
And that's that, I don't get a single other comment from him after that. Good!
I don't care, I done my part. Taking the day off now. Would have been nice to get some sort of a feedback though I guess. Maybe would have kept me going for a second piece today. Who am I kidding? It took me 3 weeks for that one and it wasn't even something special. Regardless, what did I expect? People with art are like goldfish. If you stop spamming their attention for one day they forget you even exist.
I'm shutting down. Taking a walk in that lazy sun I am supposed to be keeping in touch with. Then back to browse through some of my favourite shows perhaps, maybe I will eventually put myself to sleep with a film. Maybe I will be rid of that flicker for tonight as well, I know I didn't strain my eyes that much today so that's a plus.
Bed sheets are cold, but that makes for a better way to doze off as I warm them up. Damn this winter. I think it's raining too now.
Another day gone. And I am still not getting any younger.
Just before I close my eyes, another flicker. What irony, even with little stress I have clearly messed my eyes so bad I still get a small dose of it for today.
Nothing to think of it, it's only normal with the abuse I put myself through. I think nothing of it, and sleep on it eventually. On all of it.
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