on being an artist

I think that I have experienced a bit of disenchantment in the realm of art.
I think Berlin really drives this home. There are too many sacrifices to make in the art world. I feel like I watch friends disappear into it.
And yeah, you could make art for art's sake, but some one has got to bring home the bacon.
There is very little that I know on almost every subject, especially art. All I know is what I see, and what I feel. My way of understanding is putting these two things together, and ending up with some product or conclusion. This is how I survive. I may be wrong, but until I find other filters, this is how it is for me.
It makes my stomach hurt when I think about it.
It would be possible to really make it in this art world if you did enough coke and gave enough blowjobs at the right parties. This is how it is simplified in my brain. I suppose you could get ahead in almost any profession this way, but in art, it seems like it's the only way unless you wanna do someone else's art.
The sheer vanity of putting your name everywhere, and being known, not because of art, but because of the parties and openings. A shy person (in my generation) probably won't be able to make money as an artist. Maybe after years of toil, and joe jobs...but by then, we will no longer be young and hot.
I wonder if like, thomas kinkade and robert bateman started out as conceptual artists when they were in their twenties. I wonder if they had to settle into paintings of cottages and cougars in order to get famous.
just a thought.
So I have decided that I don't want it.
I would rather make coffee if it means being honest.
What is the point of selling something you don't believe in?
My tolerance for bullshit has always been low.
It gets me in trouble all the time.
I am not the final authority on all things. I am constantly learning the lesson of humility. My high horse gets a little spooked sometimes, and I get thrown off. It happens. I am not a better person because I don't like or understand the art world. I just don't see a lot of good that comes from it...especially in art form.
Why bother if it can't be good.
Not that being a waitress is the best thing in the world, but at least my value isn't measured by the parties I attend.
Sometimes I feel like the little kid sitting at a table of grown-ups who are all talking about people I don't know. I respond to it emotionally. I get angry on the inside, and when I try to enter into the conversation, I get a "yeah but" response. And my little life feels littler, and my little feelings get littler, and my legs swing under my chair.
This is why blogs rule. I can write a few frustrating things and listen to Johnny and the Moon, and I feel like I understand...
Maybe you do too?