Art for One and One for Art

"Oh, I am moving. In fact I am already gone. What did you want to remember? What did you want to go and get?"



My imagination has got control of me. I spent the better part of last night, using a drill like saw, and cutting out a face of me, which has evolved through my painting efforts. It started with tracing a shadow, and it ended with a drill. Last night, I threw some ink on a recently finished painting.

Today, I awoke early and took the dogs for a lazy walk around the block. I bungeed my paintings together, and I hailed a cab. I setup my artwork, and I sat. I sat all day long. I sat next to eleven paintings of mine. I put a sign under my paintings, which read: "Email me a picture, and I will paint you and yours." Below this notice, I placed a stack of my "human being" business cards. I brought at least 75 cards. I spent the end of the day writing my email on small sheets of paper--the cards were all gone. "Que Padre. Que Padre. Buenisimo. Genial". Compliments were abounding. I shall see if anyone commissions me to paint them and their children. I can say, that out of two hundred artists, I did not see any other paintings in my genre--which, according to other artists is, "Pop"--as in Pop Art. Fine by me. Call it what you want.


There were other teachers with art. I think there was some cool stuff, and there was some other stuff--some of the other stuff, presented in pretty glosses, sold very well.

This was my first public showing of my art--it felt good. I pushed myself to finish my most ambitious painting to date, and it felt good. I enjoyed the process. Between long stretches of sitting, smiling, and reflecting on my reality, I read excerpts from Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. I was reminded about the beauty of esoteric humor. I was reminded about the fun in creating.

Once again, Mexico is steering me away from teaching. I feel everything the school is offering me (books, art shows, journalism, etc.) is solidifying in my mind, what must be done: I must move on to a life of art. I must leave the safe haven of a career in a salty substitute, and embrace the full identity of a creative being--I am trickling further and further south. Thank you.

I feel at home in this realization, and I feel as if I am figuring out what I have always known. Since I can remember, I have had glimpses of feelings from the future. I can't describe to you those feelings (excitement and happiness are in there), but I have always had this weird intuition of their future existence in my life. When I was five there was a dream; when I was ten there was a moment with my eyes closed spinning on a merry-go-round; when I was 14, there was this moment in band class; in college I had a moment on stage; today I sat in the sun, and it visited me again. Somehow I have always known what I needed to be, and somehow I am starting to feel like my mind is finally willing to consciously carry me there--beyond talent, choices are finally being made. I realize what Shimmy felt for himself many many months ago. It is an exciting place to be. It's as if I am saying to myself, "Yes Elliott, you can go do the things you want to now--you have waited long enough. Go play son, go play."

Here is to the sandbox within us all--I'll see you out there.