Somewhere around 2006 or 7, I was lucky enough to have a gallery showing at my local community college. I was proud of the work I’d put together, but the joy in the entire thing was screeched to a halt when a classmate (a gentleman in his 60’s) asked me what it was for.
I had no way to answer him. He wasn’t criticizing my technique or presentation, but he was asking me where I was going to take it next, and I was embarrassed by being unable to answer the question.
I look back on this memory from time to time, sometimes fondly when I’m able to find an answer I think will embarrass him as much as it embarrassed me, or an answer that brings me joy enough to override the crushing uncertainty that moment flooded my brain with for decades after it happened, but between the ADHD, autism, trauma and just trying to make enough money not to sink into the sea in 2024, I find that all my previous conclusions have fled my head, and I have to invent another one.
I had been idly doodling my way through grade school as a way to passively pay attention while giving my hands something to do. I was in high school from 1996 to 2000, way Way before things like fidget toys were a thing, and autism and ADHD were considered things other people had. I did well in school because I stimmed or got my fidgeting in by doodling instead of anything that was distracting for teachers or students. Art was both a sanity stabilizer and a memory enhancer. I can remember a lot of The Scarlet Letter because I was doodling cringe anime chibis of the characters in the margins of my worksheets. My art is proof that my mind went places. It’s the glue holding the memory of where I’ve been, and that’s not a very useful or attractive product, but if I change my relationship with my art to make it fit other people’s expectations, I start falling apart.
As I was moving to advertise around social media that I’d updated my website, I realized that me not trying to sell anything is kind of…rare? The last show I did was in 2017 before my spouse got sick, and I didn’t comp the cost of my table, so I’ve been a bit discouraged about trying to sell things since then, but I do know that quite a lot of people do like my art and I would like to get back to doing just a little bit more than going through an on demand print service that has dubious values and takes a large cut.
It’s 2am and I’ve rambled, but I think my brain is back in the mode where I’m feeling much better about my art than I have been in a long time.