Art: A Sense of Regret

Sometimes, I regret the fact that I have an artistic side to me, apart from my literary side. I regret also the fact that these two aspects make me, me. Apart from giving me a sense of identity, though, art takes a slice of myself away, and returns it when it is withered and useless.

Today I have spent over seven hours working on three varied art projects which are due in soon. I have, for two weeks, had no idea what to do for these three projects. I have bounced from idea to idea, and just when I thought I got the hang of what exactly a still life art project is, I have not. It is quite a challenging task, which requires effort, energy, attention and all thoughts.

I foraged through the garage, and mind you it was not an easy job, trying to find any sort of objects that I could use in artworks, which depict me. Because every object was out of reach, and far from the possibility of me ever coming near them without encountering potentially life-endangering spiders or scary looking rats or a web of sticky spider web. So I grabbed the nearest long object next to me, a pitchfork, and successfully pulled a bmx bike out of a large bike heap, and slid a large canvas on the top shelf of the shelves off the other canvases, bringing down with it dust and spider legs. Though both tasks were seemingly awful, I am quite proud of the outcome because now my art projects have taken flight.

I will not yet directly reveal what my three art projects revolve around, simply because of copyright reasons to avoid myself looking like I have plagiarised from some other source who, in reality, copied me, as doubtful as that hypothetical situation may be. What I will reveal, though, is that the three projects consist of toy dinosaurs, a bmx bike, statue heads, bananas and three-dimensional effects, all ultimately resorting towards one theme: urban decay.

What I am trying to illustrate though, is the toll this process is taking on both my body and my mind. It has not been easy creating these three ideas. One may think that three ideas are minor, but one has to take into consideration that the objects located within the artworks also have to contain elements of self in it, the self of the artist, me. This in itself becomes a difficult task when all that I have been focussing on for the past three years is pedagogy and praxis and teaching and learning. All of the sudden, I have to move away from theories and move towards the freedom of expression, and that throws me right off any plan that I feel comfortable with because while there are plans behind art, most of it is improvised.

Balancing both art and English is a difficult task. I have to split my mind into two states of thinking in order to accomplish both, simultaneously, otherwise I am incapable of performing well in either sector. If I have one phrase of advice for you, it is that do not follow the creative path if you have two elements of creation which you wish to cover, otherwise you may run the risk of, well, not being able to run at all. It is all a slow process and you have to abide by each task, each essay, each artwork, until they are completed in a fashionable manner.

Another problem arises with this. I am unable to create art when I am under the pressure of having to create it. Art to me comes naturally, the need to draw comes when I come across a certain muse, and only then will I produce something that is spectacular, meaningful and displays my full potential. I am forced now, though. I have due dates, I have a teacher who regularly checks on my progress even when he promised not to, and I simply cannot cope the way that I would prefer to. With that said however, I still am coping. Just not easily.

I am veering more further away from freedom by following a path which I initially thought was built on freedom. Yes, I reap what I sow, maybe I should have sowed something more tolerable, manageable and easier to maintain.