I have spent my entire adult life creating art for other people, my limits were their ideas and expectations. My peramiters were influenced by budgets and time. It’s been both a blessing and a struggle.
When I first began tattooing and curating art shows it was as if I was suddenly some form of idol, maybe even a rockstar. It became a false sense of confidence and a burden to have such a familiar face. I was expected to always be perfect, look good and preform past any preconceived expectations. Young girls would inspire to do what I had done, men would become shy in my presence and my friends grew tired of all the free drinks and endless networking.
Tattooing made me more money then most could possibly imagine. I could clear 3,000 a week at times or more when I sold paintings and merchandise. But, that’s the thing, I was selling merchandise and therapy sessions while fooling myself that a red rose and dagger was art. The truth is, the meaning behinds the images held little value to me, they didn’t espress a social movement, stimulate a discussion on racial inequality or touch on the environmental issues of the modern day. The tattoos just became well executed clip art to me, it made me creatively lethargic.
Even with all the traveling, shows, conventions and press, it felt empty at the end of the day. It was like a hard sugar crash and eventually I couldn’t recover.
When I finally took another job in the creative field the same limitations existed, only this time they were dressed up in suits and lunch meetings with mindless puppets clueless to the term art. As I go forward, I know that making art my job is just not feasible anymore. I must save my creative energy for my self first, it is crucial to my mental health and well-being.
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