the following are excerpts from a diary
The Dire Questions
Am I coming to terms with the fact that I will never be great?
Have I been under an illusion my entire life?
Were the dreams I had for myself as a child unrealistic, the product of some Capitalist myth, or in need of an adult perspective?
Are all of these re-framing devices excuses for failure?
Could I have had greatness but fell short in some networking opportunity? Should I have said yes more?
Do I lack one attribute, like enthusiasm, even though everything else is in tune for greatness?
Was I destined from the beginning to just fall back in line?
Am I the last of my friends to get it? Do I look silly to them for continuing to believe that I am great or that great things will come? Have people stopped believing that? Or did they never think this way?
I used to race my sister to see who could eat their Spaghetti O’s faster. When she won, I would say “I wasn’t even playing”. I hope I haven’t done this with the mediums I wasn’t immediately great at.
Descent Of An Extremist
I need to stop being a victim of my own mind, doubt, fear; I need to stop being a slave to validation from a world and people that don’t give a shit; I need to have unwavering faith in myself, in my vision, and in my abilities. I need to see institutions as my nemeses. In everything I do there must be transgression against the owners of art.
Extremism. Living, breathing, eating blank. Your “passion”. Being so dedicated to something that everything else goes away. Doing it 100% of the time. This is an unsustainable way of life. But we often admire, look up to, or are inspired by these individuals. Right now, much of my pressure to be extreme is an anxious pressure, a pressure of self-doubt, fear of never living up to my potential, of taking life for granted, being too comfortable, settling for low hanging fruit instead of my childhood dreams, giving up, making excuses, never being great. What would it take to become this type of extremist? One who works on the novel, the fine art, the album, the training, 100% of the time? Something’s gotta give. Well, self-care is cut. Romance is cut. A splendid lifestyle is cut. Enjoying the joyful simple things in life is cut. Living in a nice home is cut. The abundance of comfort is cut. Having someone take care of you when you’re suffering is cut. There is only you and the thing you are doing. I want this. But I can’t get it right now, I don’t want it bad enough. The scale is tipped 50/50. I am taking care of myself and also making things. Will I want this? Will my extremism be in phases?
I want to be dissolved by my pursuits. I want to be so dominated by them that I no longer exist outside of their making. I want my art to make my decisions for me. I want them to own me. I want to have Stockholm Syndrome for my practice.
Spiritual Rehab
Is it a myth, propaganda, a tall-tale, bullshit, or unrealistic to be 100% committed to “the hustle”?
I don’t know if I can handle the controversy that comes from recognition anyway. I don’t know if I can handle people being mad at me, misunderstanding me, taking me out of context, focusing on things I didn’t fully consider, having to correct people, having to stand up for myself. I don’t know if I can handle fame and fandom. Once your name is out there, you cannot get it back. I will never get to be unknown again. This is the residue of “greatness”. How important is it to get your words in history? Is it worth the only life you will ever have being made uncomfortable? Is the true dream of this life in fact being comfortable? Are we fools to be ambitious? Is living a healthy life full of fun and splendid little moments and always staying under the radar of history the only heaven we can achieve?
When I was 18-20 I had an unshakeable, fanatical, extremist conception of art’s sanctimony. I was the suicide bomber of art faith. I thought I was destined for greatness, and that to make art was to do the most important work in the world. I felt like SAIC would be my jihad indoctrinator. I, along with many others, felt the pressure to be famous before graduation with some groundbreaking solo show. I was planning to start flash mobs of running people on state street to simulate a terrorist attack. (What happened to that artist in me? I wish I had done that). All of that just to make the art world see me and hold me up as their darling. Come graduation, I said, well it hasn’t happened yet, that’s okay, I don’t believe in art anymore, and moved on to a medium I thought was better at capturing what I wanted to do, which I still believe is true, but that faith in greatness has changed as well; I don’t feel like I’m destined for anything.
Can I just be great for me? Can I be the artist who wrote a couple of pretty good novels, climbed some moderate mountains, made a couple of films, painted some good work, wrote some cool music, was at least an okay lover, made a neat game, sailed a little, traveled a bit, was a good husband, dad, dog owner, then die with dignity? Will someone remember me for that and be affected positively? Will something I did please give another human being peace, power, and relation? What about all the people here right in front of me?
Do We Have Any Control Over Our Greatness?
In a reality where we don’t know what percentage of phenomena are ruled by will or determinism, the most useful thing for an artist to assume is that we have control over the stories we tell ourselves that can either make it easier or harder to create what we want to create. These stories are spectrum variations on either “You are destined for greatness” or “You won’t amount to shit.”
The reason we place so much value on these stories in the first place is that some part of us wants to be great, to do the right thing. We don’t know whether we have control over being great or shit, whether being great is a matter of “hard work, dedication, discipline, networking, and a positive attitude” and not completely up to other people to decide for us (luck).
All we can do is what we want to do. That is, some combination of “the path of least resistance” and “that which is within our realm of control”.
All I think we can assume is that we have control over these stories we tell ourselves, so you might as well tell yourself a story that makes it easier for you to do what you want to do.