thought

a year ago i was slumming it on a life below a living wage, unable to afford art supplies, nice clothes, or studio space. this experience of being at the margins isn't uncommon to me, and you might say has formed a large part of my outlook on life. right now my life could not be any different - i am can run across the street to the art supply store at any time, and my paycheck is prettily parceled into middle class luxuries such as a retirement plan. i think as artists we need to be honest about the myth of the starving artist - you can't starve and make art at the same time, and the people in residencies or galleries probably have a family member that funds these activities. the irony of living at the margins is that once you get out and have a chance to escape your situation, you feel like you're leaving an intrinsic part of you behind and letting a lot of people down. i'm happy with where i am, i just don't want to become an urban gardening, post-modern crafting, over-privileged asshole in the process. i try to remind myself to stay real every day. one day i might need you to remind me of that too - in the form of a swift blow to the head.