“I’m not a real artist”, says the voice in your head.
Anyone honest is an artist. I’ll give you an example.
The guy who writes bullshit hallmark cards for a living?
Not an artist.
The gal who draws unflattering caricatures of her asshole boss when he’s not looking?
Artist. 100%. Even if her doodles are terrible, they’re true.
There’s not enough truth in the world, ladies and gentlemen.
We live in an all-time abundance of information and an all-time poverty of truth.
I can know the exact population of any city on Earth within five seconds of desiring to know. But can I understand the culture? Can I feel what it’s like to be there? Can I walk a mile in the citizens’ shoes?
No. There’s no Google search term that will allow me to understand the way another person feels, lives, dreams… That’s why we have art in all its many forms.
When you make art, you’re honestly expressing what it’s like to be you.
I took a painting class once. We had to paint a bunch of fruit in a bowl. Nobody made art in art class that day, I’ll tell you right now. Practice is useful, of course, but too often the purpose of the practice is lost in the noise. It’s obvious when people miss the point.
So don’t miss the fucking point. Pay attention.
Be honest. Make something that’s fucking true.
And if nobody hears you, it’s still fucking true.
If you lie for approval, and nobody listens, you’re only lying to yourself.
And then you’re an asshole. Like Andy Warhol. Zing!
Art is honest. Don’t fucking lie.
Make something real. Even the smallest things can carry truth.
Like a shitty internet blog article with too many swear words.