Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Last week was Sarah's birthday. We went to a '4-d' ultrasound center. Basic ultrasound technology is pretty incredible. If you've never had children, or if you're children were born in the 1980s or before, then you probably don't have an appreciation for how incredible it is. Most people come out of the ultrasound session with a handful of sonograms which, while wonderful, pale in comparison to the full motion images they saw during the session itself, so if you've never been in the room during the procedure, then all you've seen are filtered fragments of the experience itself.
As somebody who believes there are a number of sad realities in our civilization that make abortion rights a terrible necessity, I also believe that ultrasound technology has in many ways revealed many of the traditional arguments in favor of 'choice' to be petty, amoral, and wrongheaded. There are a number of rational arguments in favor of the necessity of abortion rights; respectfully, 'choice' is not one of them.
At any rate, I am not in New York anymore. I am in Georgia. I hear rumors about the Atlanta art scene, but I don't live in Atlanta. I live in Woodstock, a hilly suburb about a half an hour to the northwest of the city. Plus, I'm more than a little dubious about any art scene, let alone a tiny one I would have to waste so much gas to find. I don't even know why I'd consider going anymore. For me, art galleries were more about motivation; about showing me how far off everybody else was from getting it right; about all of the stupid misconceptions artists have about what art is supposed to be about; and, fundamentally, about reminding me that I needed to be in the studio. Today, though, it seems fairly clear that I'm not going to be much of an artist.
It may or may not be for a lack of trying. I'm easily distracted. I haven't always tried my best. In fact, it's been a pretty long time since I tried at all. At some point, you have to reassess, and if it's over it's over. That's what I've spent the last couple of months doing. Here's what I've come up with:
A husband. A father of a two year old (with another on the way). I'm unemployed during what could very well be one of the bleakest moments in the history of the American economy. I'm living with my parents in a state where I have virtually no connections beyond family. I haven't worked in a studio for six months (and even then it was fairly sporadic); I haven't really thought about painting for almost that long. There are things I need. I need to find a paycheck. My family needs a home of our own.
I do need an outlet, but it's not going to be painting. That ship has sailed. It may never return. If not, my only regret at the moment is in the years wasted. I'm 29 years old. I'm fairly intelligent, but my education and work experience is such that I am about as employable as the average 24 year old with a BA in philosophy. I could have been a lot smarter about how I did a lot of things. But I went to art school. It's not difficult for me to admit my failure as an artist. That being said, it's hard to come to grips with how my decision to commit to that failed path led to my abject failure as a provider for my family.
At any rate, a period of my life is over. A new period begins. I've begun this blog as part of that. I don't know what shape it will take. Or if I will have the diligence to keep it going. But like I've said, I need an outlet. Something to act as a catalyst that will keep my mind focused while I get my life moving again. That's the idea anyway.
Forgive me my naval gazing.