A day
- In motivation, personal,
It’s one of those days when i realize there’s very little point, and give up. Fighting the current is tiring. See you when i dive back in.
It’s one of those days when i realize there’s very little point, and give up. Fighting the current is tiring. See you when i dive back in.
That I appreciate all the support, but I also tell you all the time how you can help me out (sharing links to other sites, buying my stuff, etc)
Now I wnt to know- what can I do for YOU? What do you want to see more of? Less of? What kind of things would you just love to hear me rant about, draw a picture of, or review? You can tell me in a comment, or you can email me at resonanteye at the gmail dot com, either way is fine- but I’d love to know how I can make this site more fun for you, more worth your time and all the attention.
xox I love you peoples.
a reminder tattoo for a tattoo artist friend of mine. he wanted to remember to slow down, and do more focused work, instead of hurrying up and rushing himself. He is the kind of artist who feels a lot of pressure from his clients, he tends to feel so glad to be tattooing that he forgets that his work is valuable, that his BEST work is worthwhile…that people who want really good tattoos are willing to pay for them, and that he is capable of doing great tattoos, and therefore shouldn’t undervalue his time…
If you undercharge people, you start to feel rushed. it’s inevitable- you end up booked solid for months but barely making ends meet. hurrying up to get that tattoo done in time, in the small amount of time you quoted them for. it’s far better to quote high, to take your time, take that extra hour to do your VERY BEST work on people.
any rate- I love fucking sloths. And this one is particularly classy, too.
also,
I’ve seen my work posted and reposted a lot online (it probably started in earnest, with my work, when this image was the main image on the wikipedia “tattoo” entry for almost a year) and I’ve never really thought about the amount of people who may be seeing it with no idea who made it.
A few things recently made me consider starting to watermark my stuff with this site’s address. First, I was looking at sketches done by some artists on a social network site I use, and found a sketch of my spider monkey mount’s skull and jaws. It was a great sketch, and I commented on it saying I loved that someone was using my work as inspiration. The artist blew it off, saying “Yes, I found this randomly online.” They had no idea they were talking to the creator of the work they were (tracing) drawing.
I explained that it was my work, she was excited to find out where it came from, we made friends.
It was a really good sketch.
Then, I found my spider skeletons posted to a russian site- and have no idea what on earth it says, whether it links back to me (update- it does) or not, and would love to comment but have no idea which buttons are for commenting or anything since I don’t read cyrilic.
Should I start watermarking things? I’d love it if every time my work was reposted or re-used, someone new came to see the rest of what I do, came here and maybe even said hi or spoke with me.
Having the site address on each photo is something I have alternately been too obstinate, or too lazy, to do. I don’t think even if I did this, that I would have the patience to go back and watermark all my older images (about twenty thousand images of my various works exist online) but maybe, going forward, I should make the effort.
What do you think?
The world is a very grey and dismal place at times. There are deaths, horrors. We are all alone in these little bodies, floating around, disconnected most of the time- from each other and from the ground we stand on. Most people DO live quietly, desperately, working and thinking and amassing a thousand new worries each day.
Most people walk around afraid, nervous. Or angry. Or just focused on the task at hand, which for more people all the time involves merely surviving the vicissitudes of economy and thrift, of bad jobs or no work. Of struggle. Life is mostly struggle and concern for most people on earth, and for the rest it can be even worse.
It’s our job, as artists, to show people that there is more. I am not a religious person, nor even a spiritual one. I do not believe that there is a sky-man or any kind of conscious entity watching over us carefully, or interested in our problems. I do not believe. BUT- I do believe that the world itself is a being of grace, and by truly seeing it, and being within it, we can lighten our weight. This entails details.
When one is in a chain gang, there will be a beautiful weed sprouting in the ditch. When one has lost hope and is starving, there will be the smell of dry morning air, and the sunrise. When the worries about the future become too much, there is still the present.
I know this doesn’t make up for any of it. I also know that there are times for all of us when we realize our solitude, when we are alone and in pain, in the dark. Cold and possibly hopeless. In those times it is art’s job to expose the alternatives, to bring the world into us and that way bring us out of ourselves.
Art doesn’t have to be “good” or skilled or perfect or even beautiful to do this. It will be a different view for each artist and a different piece that speaks to each viewer. Sometimes the crude and the ugly do this much more effectively than the pretty and the sweet- actually for me, when I am alone and in pain in the dark, it is the reminder that others have been there as well that helps. And art that speaks this way is often NOT beautiful to look at.
I need to sell art to live- to pay rent. To eat. If I could give it away and not be homeless I would. But the necessities of the world insist that my work must be valued at a number. I know that for some the value of their work is low and their hours are long and hard; that they must do work which is difficult, upsetting, dangerous. I am lucky to be an artist, I am privileged in ways not many are. I love my work. That alone is a stroke of fortune.
People who hate their work but must do it deserve my best efforts, because I know that at times my work, seeing my work and interacting with it, is their release and their reminder. Artists have an obligation to try their damnedest to do that, and to do it as best they can every time.
one of my most adorable clients is sitting half across the room in front of me, listening to the band. “tonight’s about Anji Marth, that’s her decadent decay on the walls! it gives me a hardon, does it give you one?!” the singer on stage yells.
my cute, perky, completely normal client turns around beaming, and in the silent pause shouts in a wee, happy voice- “I LOVE TO FUCK DEAD PEOPLE!”
at an earlier moment in the evening, a jolly young man with absolutely no warning fell flat from his chair onto his back, cracking his head flatly, and lying completely unresponsive in the center of the table area. “is he dead?” someone asked. people gathered around, cradling his head, talking at him. someone has died at my art opening! visions of infamy danced wildly before my eyes until he arose, bleary. he was led to a safer chair and left with friends shortly afterward, crushing my daydreams.
I had a conversation with electro hippies in fluorescent green fur hats about craft fairs, moderation in party times, and mentoring the young in a scene. I spoke with a woman who has done the Saturday market for 34 years running and who enjoyed the contrast between my work and the landscape artist next door. I also spoke intently to a man with a fear of spiders, a man who was in love with “galore” (the boar head mount) and a woman who was fascinated and repelled but wanted to know all about bone processing.
I had a great night. I also saw some old friends long missing from my real life, spent a bit of time with a good old friend I miss every day. and of course, enjoyed the gentlemanly presence and aplomb of Hawkins.
all in all, except for my crankiness from fatigue, an excellent night.
my work will be on display all month at the speakeasy. I’ll be back there on the 9th to bring a few more prints and listen to the excellent Mendozza … thanks everyone who helped make tonight happen and everyone who came out to support or buy my work.
Labels ready, statement ready, credit card machine set up, everything is set…
and I am still nervous.
I always am, I’ve been doing shows for over a decade and I get nervous as hell every time.
Wish me luck folks.
Oh yeah, side note: here’s my facebook art fan page, if you’d rather “like” than “add”.
I don’t bite, drop me a line! Or come on out to the show. I love seeing internet people in real life.
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