February 27, 2009 (58/365)

I'm a little freaked out tonight. A little while ago I suddenly smelled L., a girl I used to love and live with. The smell was strong and unmistakable. I don't know what it means. God, I hope she's ok.

February 26, 2009 (57/365)

I saw Slumdog Millionaire the other day. I hate seeing high quality movies... not because they're bad... usually far from it... but because I'm always obligated to evaluate or express an opinion of them afterwards, and high concept or art movies come with a different set of rules than, say, Zombie Strippers. I most often go to a movie to be entertained, to enjoy what I'm watching. I can judge them based on how much I enjoy them. Movies like Slumdog are experiences. They (usually) rise above typical "entertainment" in quality of writing/movie-making. I don't always enjoy them, but I usually feel enriched as a person for having had the experience.

I enjoyed Slumdog Millionaire, but I'm a little guilty having "enjoyed" it when I feel like I should have been "appreciating" it.

February 25, 2009 (56/365)

I went to the studio angry today. It got me to thinking about how people will sometimes tell artists to "channel their anger into their art." I've, on occasion, suggested it as well. This wasn't the first time I've wondered why I can't do that with my work. This is the first time I've been able to mentally voice the answer, however. It has to do more with the medium involved than the artist. Some mediums allow for direct channeling of thought and feeling from brain to hands to medium. Drawing... painting.... are the primary examples. Ceramics, sculpture, photography, jewelry... these mediums require a lot of forethought and planning. By the time you can get to the actual production of the art... the manipulation of the medium... any anger has dissipated (or sometimes deflated into lethargy, bitterness, or depression).

So... no channeling for me.

February 24, 2009 (55/365)

I know my posts read pretty darkly. That's the predominant nature of my depression-influenced thinking, so that's what comes to the page. Not everything is bad in my life. For example, since the studio reopened after winter break, I've been more productive than usual. I'm trying to continue the new level of quality in my work. I'm also planning ahead to do a bunch of smaller pieces for a local show in November, mainly just to get my name out there. My primary goal is to get into some reputable galleries and make a name for myself. SOFA is my "win condition."

February 23, 2009 (54/365)

I've been eating like William Conrad at an all-you-can-eat buffet tonight. I've decided it's a self-destructive act. It's unusual for me to eat like this, and it's unusual for me to eat this much utter crap. I'm going to try once again tomorrow to get back into the workout routine I abandoned because of Christmas. I'm back up a belt notch, and I feel unhealthy again. Half-assed and generally unsuccessful though it was, I did manage to drop an inch or two off my waist and wasn't feeling quite so physically worthless when I was working out. I just wish working out wasn't such an irredeemable grind for me. I'm one of those "lucky" few people who don't get the endorphin rush from workouts, so it's simply every-other-day torment. I'm not a masochist.

February 22, 2009 (53/365)

I'm so tired. Is anyone even reading this any more?

February 21, 2009 (52/365)

It's weird feeling as if you belong somewhere, know where that is, visit it occasionally... and not be there. I went down to Clark & Belmont today for some shopping and lunch. I love that part of the city. If my life were different, I'd be living there. In other news, V. is sending me pics of her adventures in Vegas.

It's hard realizing I'll go to my grave filled with regrets.

February 20, 2009 (51/365)

Mood is pretty bad tonight, so I'm not going to waste a lot of time going on and on about it. I'm not myself... It feels like I'm not really anyone right now. I'm a little worried because I can't find anything tonight that distracts me. This way lies the "bad" option. I'm carefully tallying the short list of "why not"s.

February 19, 2009 (50/365)

I smell funny tonight. How's that for observational?

February 18, 2009 (49/365)

V. and I are connected in a way I haven't quite figured out. She brings something out in me that I like having out, which is bittersweet since she and I aren't compatible for anything more than casual friendship (and even more casual on her part than on mine). I have a feeling though that we're going to do something significant together. No idea what that might be though.

February 17, 2009 (48/365)

I'm tired early tonight.

I was in the studio for about 7 hours today, and I feel like I got almost nothing done. Aside from the 2 mind-numbing hours I spent carefully chipping the plaster out of a mold which should have just slid out to begin with, I spent 5 hours putting the final pre-firing details on a sculpture and putting feet on 2 platters. (A brief dinner break was in there as well.) 5 hours for this?? That's about twice as much time as it should have taken. I've noticed more and more lately, in the studio I have trouble multitasking. I'll catch myself, like popping out of a trance, just standing or sitting, staring off into space, and realize I've been planning out the details of pieces in my head. That's all well and good, necessary even, but it sure slows down the productivity. I did it a lot tonight. But 5 hours for cleanup and a couple of feet? That just won't do.

February 16, 2009 (47/365)

The one night I pick to hang out at the Borders bookstore ....relax in the coffee shop with a hot chocolate and an apple tart while browsing a couple magazines.... is the night they've got Kat Von D* there for a book signing. Not that Kat isn't bangtastic, and I'll bet she's a carnival ride to hang with, but she attracted every tat-crowd poser for a 4 county radius to that store. Seriously, when I got there, the line ran out the door and around the corner of the building.... which was nothing, as I found out, compared to the line of hundreds of people snaking its way through every fucking aisle of the store. I was able to squeeze my way to the coffee shop with little trouble (apparently the Kat Groupies aren't coffee drinkers... go figure), so I did have my drink and read, but it was hardly peaceful. And you can forget about browsing the art books, which were in the back of the store. Patton himself couldn't have taken that heavily-inked, bleach-rooted hill.

I'd like to say I don't understand the siren's song of the celebrity public appearance, but I kind of do. I think there's a lot of different motivations that make people want to show up at these things, which is probably why so many people show. A dozen motivations, each providing the same end result, brings an excited, tittering, tattooed horde. Although I won't speak for everyone, I probably do know many of the motivations. For me (on those rare occasions where I am inspired to seek out a celebrity in public), it's a combination of things. It's a show of appreciation. It's wanting to be near someone who's special to me in some way. It's wanting to put a human face on them... to prove to myself they're no different from me. And in some cases, it's wanting to at least facilitate the potential of the fantasy, of having that celebrity, upon meeting me, realize that I'm the one they want to be hanging out with. (Or, if they're some hot female-type person, that I'm the person who they've always dreamed would invade their pants. Hey, I can dream.)

Anyway... Kat, it was very rude of you not to check with me before making your arrangements. You owe me some time in the art book section.

*Kat's a hot tattoo artist chick who got her own show on the Discovery Channel called LA Ink.

February 15, 2009 (46/365)

I've been focusing hard on art today (about the only thing still capable of keeping me distracted). As usual, spent a lot of time looking at other people's work, and some time working on my own designs. It's not often that I wish I had a formal studio at home, but today's one of those days. I'd probably have worked most of the day on some of the ideas. Spreading things out on the living room floor often just doesn't cut it for the kind of mess I make. Someday I'll have a home studio.

In other news, I haven't been thinking too far beyond the shallow topics lately, as thinking about more meaningful things leads to mental stress and pain. I'm sure I'll eventually be equipped to deal with more, but for now it's art and tits.

February 14, 2009 (45/365)

One of the things from the internet that I gorge my brain on is other people's art and crafts*. I'll spend hours just soaking in images from artists' blogs and sites that collect and compile the artwork of others. While I find the experience both inspiring and discouraging in unequal measures, it's led me to some conclusions and observation of a need that needs filling.


-For anyone who wants artwork of any kind, be it wall art for their home, garden sculptures, unique t-shirts, or background "wallpaper" for their laptop computer, it's an almost certainty that someone has already created that artwork for them. There are so many artists and so much artwork out there, it's mind-boggling.
-Given this assumption, I find it surprising that those people aren't able to find precisely the artwork they're looking for. It's like looking for a specific pebble on a beach.... while navigating a huge hedge maze. It's there... You know it is... But finding it is nearly impossible, even with the few sites that are available now that gather the work of many artists in one place (etsy, being only one example).
-Given this assumption and this conclusion, it strikes me that there needs to be a single site, akin to Google though not precisely, where all artists would want to show/sell their work. Or perhaps better worded, a site that makes it easy to find the artist/artwork any given person is looking for. (Are you listening, Google?) It seems to me that this can't be accomplished solely through technology. It's going to require the faith and desire of artists. Desire in committing whatever time and effort is going to be necessary to get their work "out there." And faith that this step will help them in the long run and that it wouldn't just allow people to steal their work. (The concept of online "theft" of artwork is an ethereal subject perched on a slippery slop, and a topic for another time.) I'm not entirely sure this process hasn't already begun. When "search engines" first appeared, there were many, fighting it out until only one was the site everyone turned to. There are already a few sites out there for artists and/or their work. Maybe we just have to wait until one wins out over the others.

*"Arts and crafts." I hate that expression, because there isn't a single person in the world for whom it doesn't conjure images of popcicle stick sculptures, elastic loop potholders, and something covered in glitter. The expression caries the impression "amateur" and things that are "not really art."

February 13, 2009 (44/365)

Nobody cries for roadkill.

February 12, 2009 (43/365)

Continued correspondence from the Twilight Zone. I'm filled with angst and extreme loathing of 43 of my 46 years, so I'll keep this short and not ramble on about it. The Girl Next Door (the movie, not the insipid Playboy bunny TV show) is on TV in the background, and I'm watching my fantasy life. Not "fantasy life," but my life as I wish it could have been. I'm sure by the end I'll be angry and suicidal. I'm a waste.

I have a lot of interests and I like a lot of things. The problem with this is that, in pursuing so many thing, I never have sufficient time to properly devote to any of them. My life is lined with half finished projects, half watched TV series, uncountable half read web sites and blogs. Every night is a mental marathon of cramming knowledge into my brain and attempting to visually absorb the skill of hundreds of artists, and pretending to design upcoming projects (most of which are unoriginal evolutions inspired by someone else's work). By the time 3am rolls around every night, I'm mentally exhausted and emotionally unsatisfied.

You know, I think being intellectually rounded is a good thing, I love my art, and I think it's possible to organize my life so I'm able to accomplish more. But I'm not there... not really even sure how to get there. I want it. And Ill keep working on it until I do finally give up.

Selfishness can be motivating.

February 11, 2009 (42/365)

I'm tired and my computer's acting up, so this'll be short. There's kind of a dark cloud hanging over my household tonight. This are going wrong, bad things are happening, the weather is angry, and there's a general sense of doom around here. I'm hunkering down and waiting for it to pass.

February 10, 2009 (41/365)

I'm sitting here watching David Letterman interview the pilots and crew of the flight that had to land in the Hudson River. He's spending a considerable amount of time with these people and while he's joking with them a lot, he's getting quite an extensive retelling of the emergency landing.... far more than any of the many news shows they've appeared on. I think that's telling of something. Probably the truly sad state of news "reporters" and "anchors" who are more interested in telling guests what they want them to say, gleaning only the most superficial and titillating details, and squeezing it all in between commercial breaks. I think Walter Cronkite would be proud of Dave.

February 9, 2009 (40/365)

Eat. Stare at TV. ....for hours. I can't bring myself to do much more. I haven't even been thinking about anything interesting enough to report here. Thinking about anything actually causes me anxiety.

I can't wait til this passes.

February 8, 2009 (39/365)

The depression is winning right now. I spent all day yesterday yearning to do something ...anything... but unable to do more than stare at the stupid TV from 9:00am til 2:00am. I hated sitting there. I wanted to do so much yesterday. But I couldn't. It's so frustrating; I just wanted it to end.

Today I've tried to force myself to activity. I've managed to take a couple pictures of sculptures. I suppose that's better, but I can still feel the downward spiral.

I did come to something of an epiphany yesterday. I'm unlikely to commit suicide because of my selfishness. Strange as that sounds, I not only want the depression to end but I want a better life... I long for happiness... and I can't have those things if I'm dead.

February 7, 2009 (38/365)

I've always been extremely attracted to the results of encaustic painting and have begun studying it. I'm not sure why, as I utterly suck at two-dimensional artwork. Seriously. There's a measurable wind movement whenever I attempt it. Encaustic painting is essentially painting with wax. The building up and varying of layers with embedded images and materials compose the piece. It produces a work of richness and literal "depth." Amazing examples here. I'm not sure why I'm considering pursuing this technique as it's an extreme deviation from ceramics and likely somewhat costly to get started (both in materials and dedicated work space). It might also be a waste of time that I could be devoting to other work. There's a part of me that can't help wondering if there's something in this technique that I can bring over into ceramics. We'll see.

February 6, 2009 (37/365)

37 of 365. I suppose this puts me at 1/10th the way through the year long experiment. I'm kind of empty tonight, and I'm sure it's not just the depression but tiredness that's got me this way.

I'm sitting here watching Night of the Living Dead, and it occurs to me that I empathize with the zombies. Lately I've been plodding unenthusiastically through my life, driven by some force of habit nestled deep in my brain stem than by any kind of enthusiasm or motivation.

As usual, that sounds far more depressed and fatalistic than I intend. Like I said, I'm tired.

February 5, 2009 (36/365)

I promised not to hash over the minutia of my days because, seriously, nobody's going to give a shit. I'll just say today was production day and I'm tired, so I haven't been contemplating a lot except how ineffective our ad salespeople are, how lousy the advertising market in general is right now for print publications, and what a terrible hair-snatchingly awful mistake changing our publication software was. It infuriates and terrifies me. The exhaustion itself comes from enduring hours of my intolerance for incompetency. I've learned people are adaptive, but only just enough to learn how to do most jobs. Doing it well requires actual skill which only about 20% of people in any given job actually have. Those other 80% can thank goodness that the people doing the hiring also fall within that 80/20 margin, so 80% of the people doling out the jobs don't give enough of a shit to just show them the door.

February 4, 2009 (35/365)

I'm a believer in the concept of the "multiverse" .... the idea that an infinite number of dimensions exist on top of each other, occupying the same space yet separated from each other. I believe that an alternate universe exists for every conceivable outcome to every decision or situation that can have more than one option. Somewhere out there is a "me" who has achieved success in his life and all things in it. He has everything in his life that he can possibly want and has achieved happiness and fulfillment. Sometimes, perhaps when whatever barrier that separates the various dimensions weakens slightly, I feel as if I can sense him out there somewhere. I envy him so much.

February 3, 2009 (34/365)

Attention Republicans. Let me explain something to you.

You're absolutely right. Government should stay the hell out of your business. I get it, I really do. The problem is, you ("you" being cast in the role of successful corporate executives) won't behave yourselves. You'll do anything to make yourselves richer and more successful, and some of those things are unethical if not downright illegal. You're more than willing to take big government bailout money and apply it to your own annual bonuses and the buying or new corporate jets while in the same breath laying off hundreds of workers. You're content with the decision to release food products even though you know they're tainted with harmful bacteria, because the alternative (that would be "dealing with the situation appropriately" or "preventing the problem in the first place" for those of you having trouble keeping up) would just be too costly. Your mothers apparently didn't ingrain in you deeply enough the difference between right and wrong. And that's why we ("we" being cast in the role of a medling US government) have to step in and slap your hand, because your mothers won't. When a bully continues bullying unchecked, at some point the poor defenseless freshman has to go to the police, and the police step in. It really is that simple. You're not willing to act appropriately, so we have to keep a constant eye on you.

In summary, if you'd just behaved yourself, we'd be happy to just let you do your own thing. All cleared up now? Good. Stop whining.

I blame mothers.

February 2, 2009 (33/365)

It came out the other day that the Peanut Corporation of America knew their product was contaminated with salmonella and chose to sell it anyway. The company's product is currently responsible for 8 deaths and hundreds of illnesses. For once I'm sad that America hasn't been taken over by China yet, as the Chinese know how to handle scumbag executives like this. Last week a Chinese court sentenced executives there (guilty of tainting infant milk products with melamine so they would give a false positive reading for sufficient protein levels) to death. Now that's how you handle people like this. In this country they'll probably get a slap on the wrist and a multi-million dollar severance package for being fired.

February 1, 2009 (32/365)

I was thinking today how the internet has changed people's access to the various arts (visual arts, sculptural arts, music, etc.). Not many years ago the world didn't realize how many creative people there really were in the world. Musical exposure was almost entirely via radio and CDs; movies via theaters and DVDs; visual arts via magazines; sculptural arts via galleries. Specific people/groups in control of these industries decided what we would be exposed to and essentially covering up the existence of all others with talent who they deemed unworthy.

The internet really has changed all that, and I can see why the old guard is terrified of it. The 'net is the ultimate playing field leveler. Because of it we can each decide for ourselves (not someone else for us) what is "good enough" for us. Because of it, 95% of the music I now listen to is non-mainstream. I scour the world for hours a day looking at art and graphic design that I would have never been exposed to otherwise. My artistic inspirations come more from people like Raymond Papka from Kentucky than the Louvre.

Still, the old guard control freaks are trying to control what we see and hear. Radio station programming has become tighter and more manufactured than ever; and while art galleries are always looking for that next big artist, it's only so they can package them, slap a label on them, and market them to the mainstream until their appeal wanes and they toss them aside. Radio stations remain in control of the airwaves; museums remain in control of mass-access to art. While I don't have the money to undertake it myself, I wish someone out there would look at the range of talent out there on the internet, not with fear but with a sense of opportunity, and welcome them into those rarified places of public exposure too. Someone should start a radio network whose programming is composed of music by all those independent artists that currently can only be found on the internet. A major gallery should be opened to show the works of non-mainstream artists. A television network should be started to show the film works of independent film makers. Etc.

We're almost there, but it's going to take some enterprising "new guard" to shake off the paralyzing fear and embrace the immense opportunity that's available out there.

January 31, 2009 (31/365)

There's really no denying it, the depression is on me again pretty hard. Has been for a couple weeks now. This doesn't mean that it's got me down yet. I'm fighting against it... it hasn't got me sitting in a chair staring blankly at a wall for 16 hours a day yet. The focus lately has been regret. What happened to my life after I moved to Chicago? Once in a while something triggers my sense of what my life is supposed to feel like, but it doesn't, and I wonder where I went wrong. By now I'm supposed to feel successful, free. I'm supposed to see local TV programming about Chicago and all the interesting things in it and think, yep, that's my life. But it isn't my life... not in the slightest. Instead I feel unimportant and trapped in my own life. I look at those programs with a feeling of loss.

Like I said, I'm fighting against it... This is coming from an analytical place, not entirely from depression.

This is one of those posts that I'm really uncomfortable making. I really don't think I want my friends knowing I feel like this.