Today, I briefly entertained the notion of what would happen if I stopped creating art. It terrified me. I stood in my studio space that I will soon have to vacate, and looked around. I have made so much this year. My current body of work has been a tremendous break through. And that's when I decided this could not be the end. I will continue. I wrote myself a promise, and I will keep it.
I also realized today what it really means to be a starving artist. I have been thinking about that phase a lot lately. World hunger is such a problem, yet somehow we have been bestowed the title. How have we artist, such a small portion of the population, earned such exclusive rights? I thought maybe it was our idealism, our integrity to our vision, our passion. I thought how we chose to be artists, not to make money, but because we had to create. Those are such grandiose ideas though. Tonight, I skipped dinner to finish a photo project. Then I delayed food farther to complete a transfer, that wasn't for anyone but myself. And I realized I am starving, not due to lack of resources, as I always assumed the phrase referred to, but because I wanted to create art more than I wanted to eat.
Whenever there is an opportunity to fear, there is an equal opportunity to hope. If I am willing to starve for art, then surely there is hope that this passion will carry me farther than art school. I've always known I did not choose the easiest path, nor will I ever choose the path of least resistance, but the resistance will make me stronger. No pain, no gain. I am not afraid.