Now that I'm here

I've forgotten why I've come.

People have asked me why I decided to go to art school.

I wish I could respond with something profound that doesn't require lying.

I truth is just that I thought art was just pretty pictures. I didn't really know what made an artist or what made up art. I thought the art in text books didn't have anything to do with me at all; They were just in a book and I was turning the pages! They were there for me to gaze at and vaguely think about while I went on innocently doodling my pretty pictures thinking that I was the best (or there even was a "best") since to anyone else around me, I was.

Now, more than ever, I'm swirling in and out of my self doubt, thinking that even the way water falls off of my body as I rise from a bath is going to help me solve the problem in some way.

I was laying sideways in the bath, lights off. My body made an s-curve and the water just a little bit higher. I'm trying to figure out what I saw. It was dark. (Did I see anything at all?) I saw the tiles on the walls, and they were pink (just the kind of pink I remembered). The shadows were different though. I guess they can never be the same. So there they were: The tiles, the shadows, then the porcelain tub, then the water. On the water I saw everything I saw above it; I saw the reflection. But in the reflection, nothing was the same as the real version. It was the bathroom (but opposite) and from one particular unique perspective (mine, in that moment). I let my fingers raise without thinking and they became a monster rising from the ocean coming towards me. It was attacking me gracefully. It sank into the ocean again and I turned on my back to face the ceiling. I let my feet rise to the hot and cold handles; I let them sink again. I felt the way anything in a cup of water would feel like. The bath wasn't a bath anymore; it was a cup, and I was a toy soldier, bobbing up and down. My face rose and sunk into the water gently enough so I could feel the suction of the water come around my nose. My face didn't feel like a face. All of this just in a tub.

All of this was just me trying to spend time somewhere else hoping to find a eureka moment where there doesn't need to be one. I was waiting for some sign of what to do in my art to feel that love and admiration towards it the way I do towards art of my peers that I see for the first time (and even the second). If only I didn't have to live with what I make and see it everyday and call it my own and defend it. If only I didn't feel the need to answer the question of ,"So, what now?" and first learn to deal with the difficulties that come even without any agitation.

These things might be:

The shadows, in between parts,

shapes (freeform or preset),

tessellation,

start and end, in an out,

weight, chaos, games,

linear vs. cyclical,

love,

layers, proportion,

lust, need, fate.

These things might be:

The only things I need.