Characters step in to tell me what not to do and how not to do what, according to them, I should not do. And when I fearlessly ask, 'What do you suggest I do?'
Crickets.
The world is full of insecure people and this insecurity often comes from not pursuing what is the most ardent desire in their heart. Being a back-seat driver is the safer path, the smarter-than-thou smirk makes an appearance when the brave fails to reach a particular goal and the back-seat driver begins to explain how he/she would have done it better. But the truth is the back-seat driver wouldn't have done it better because he/she would not attempt 'it' in the first place.
We all have met this person -- the one who offers no valid suggestions or encouragement as one struggles through an artistic project.
My observation of this personality type makes me think of a baby in a carriage, wrapped warmly in a blanket with not one pinky exposed to the elements, seat belt clipped in and carried from one safe comfortable warm place to another. The baby version of being a back-seat driver, mumbling and at times pointing while the grown-ups do the work.
And there is something very grown up about pursuing one's dreams even if one lands in un-grown up feeling circumstances such as having to explain one's life to a relative who has always settled for being settled and still and adhering to the expected.
I am an artist at heart -- every experience filters through this most significant part of who I am. And I feel myself connected spiritually to those artists I most admire.
Artists are a separate ethnic group, sometimes, misunderstood or unappreciated and that's fine.
Yesterday, I went to the Highline to participate in my friend Edwin Gonzalez's art show The Status Hoe Collective, which is part of Art in Odd Places, and we played skin-color Twister on the street as techno music blared, tourists joined in and babies nonchalantly strolled across the board as we 'performed.'
The sun shone on Tenth Avenue, the temperature alternated between Fall and Spring, we took a break to sit on the Twister board in the middle of the sidewalk and watch people walk by and danced while people above and below wondered what the hell we were doing.
We were being ourselves.
http://www.artinoddplaces.org/blog/
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