What you want to be consideredresides in the perception of others.
What you do is who you actually are.
You make art to find out about yourself, not to impress anonymous, imaginary people. You can always impress them in your fantasy, but they will never give you what you actually seek, your own approval. The best art is stamped authentic and good by its maker. Without that, it is imitation. The gift is to not die before witnessing your own creation, by meeting yourself in the mirror of art.
You know you have done it when it grows. The doing of more is the sign of approval. If it’s not currently growing, stop the part that stops you. Every path to good art begins in a tangled jungle of bad art. Bad art is not a sign you are a bad artist. The art we reject is just the metal shavings falling off the knife as it is sharpened.
This stump used to be attached to the dead bush formerly known as Sidewalk Face 1004. I took his picture last year because it’s not that often a bush looks like a skull. The effect is aided by the random yellow rake handle which helps define the nose. Seeing him this way was mostly good luck. When I passed by at a different time of day, he didn’t seem so skull like. So many things are ephemeral and there is only one right moment.
Though the bush resides only a few streets away, for whatever reason it’s not a block I’ve been going by frequently, so I was startled to come upon him utterly decimated a few days ago. Considering that he was dead, I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked at his removal a full year later, but it still made me sad. I hate loss. Even if I come to embrace it later, NO! is what I hear when change first penetrates my consciousness.
I quickly made a new face to commemorate the tragedy. His expression mirrors my own and sort of helped me get over it. Feather is still trying to decide. She’s known to take her time. Maybe after a few dogs have peed on him she’ll warm up.