Same Old Story? Yep. Art and Chaos.
It’s six in the morning and I’m wide awake despite the fact that I didn’t go to bed until three. What else is new? I’m an artist. I make coffee and listen to the Daily, the New York Times weekday podcast. Michael Barbaro is detailing the ways the NRA is gunning for us. Shocker. I flop down on my foundering, titanic wreck of a recliner aka badly-upholstered art-studio-on-legs, which is slowly crumbling beneath the weight of all the wonders with which I feather my nest. I’ve got everything I need here. Sketchbooks, notebooks, computing devices, drawing utensils, random articles of clothing, cracker crumbs, raisins, an octogenarian cat with dreadlocks…it’s kind of amazing there’s any room left to sit. I retrieve two pens and my best pair of scissors from underneath the cat. I can’t put it off any longer. I take a deep breath and hunker down to work on the kind of odious task that immediately gives me low blood-sugar: sorting and filing the piles of drawings currently metastasizing on my desktop/virtual garbage dump. God, those piles are deep.
I create a folder and label it, after some thought, whothefuckknows? I scan the sketches on top to see if any of them belong in it. Most of them do, I think. Depressing thought. What’s the point? I have no idea where to put these. How did it get so crowded? Damn laptops have too much memory. I stare at the screen, either hypoglycemic or sulking, until my eyes blur and all the little piles of files turn into one gigantic file. I wish it was that easy. Outside my window, something screeches. I glance at the clock. 7:05. I decide it’s break time. I check my mail, check the news. pull up Twitter. I decide to dash off a quick post–not that anybody reads them. Can’t let that deter me. I am an artist, a culture-warrior. Like Elizabeth Warren, I persist. Good old Elizabeth Warren…why isn’t she President? As usual, Twitter is hopping…or maybe just flapping. I peruse the hashtags-du-jour to see what’s trending. Holy shit.
I half-laugh, half-groan. F-ing perfect. The sort of idiocy that will no doubt doom our civilization. Time to tweet.
Weird, eh? Welcome to my brain. When I finished tweeting, I glance over at my laptop. Damn. The piles are still there. I pick up my sketchbook.
Last night’s doodles aren’t bad…and the little cat in the middle is perfect for #Inktober, which is a social media gimmick for October… but it’s okay. It gets people to post drawings every day for the whole month. Some of them are actually good. Have an idea. Nothing big. Just a little cheerleading. Or is it marketing? It can’t be marketing. I’m an artist. I don’t do marketing.
I look at my doodles again…I kind of like the little things at the bottom. They sort of remind me of snails with flags on their heads. Suddenly I have an idea. Ultimately, it turns into this, which I like:
It’s almost 5 by the time I finish the drawing. Too late to start in on filing.
Damn. I’ll get around to it one of these days.