So — Reading The Icarus Deception, etc. New, Real, and Important are apparently what Art is made of. A quick look through my dash and it’s easy to see that at least one of those aspects are true. My favourite bloggers, above all other things, are real. As in, their writing is(seems) unrestrained. It got me wondering, am I being too polite on my own little blog here? I wonder.
I want to make art. I think I’ve always felt that way. The system never found a way to hammer me into their mold. And I don’t mean that to say that I’m a warrior of individualism, that through my strength I’ve overcome the world. I mean that I crave more than what the system could ever give. I want something now; I don’t want it later. (Using analogies straight from the aforementioned book), In my case, the bait wasn’t sweet enough for the fox to be tricked by the hunter. At least, not sweet enough for me to stay around.
I don’t know if I can be raw enough to emulate those bloggers’ success. I don’t know if what I’ve been through will be new enough for anyone, or if anyone will find me important. But I can’t know until I try.