Probably because I skipped yoga tonight. I'll have to do some sun salutations to make up for my really shitty mood but all of a sudden, I just couldn't take it any longer. See, I'm grieving. People used to wear black for a year so they'd remember and not put it off but, when you are struggling to survive, allowing yourself to feel too much to the point where you want to puke kinda gets in the way of, you know, survival. A year and a half later I sit on a futon in my studio. Lights out and sunlight trickling in through the one small window. Finney snores. I just ate some angel food cake. I spent two days crying non stop out of nowhere, crying like a little kid does with big heavy sobs and shallow breaths. I made a page in my journal the day after.
If you thought my capacity to put up with bullshit was low before, it's below sea level now. The one person I cared for more than anything is gone so I have nothing to lose. I am now that Suzi. I tried. I did, to be mainstream. Whatever that means. For me it entailed wearing clothes without paint on them and smiling big to industry people. I don't know, I thought it would make my parents proud, if I was among the rest of the world. It was exceedingly obvious to anyone though, that I hated it. It felt exactly like wearing nylons, or clothes that didn't fit - underwear up my ass and a baggy grandma shirt. And I'll tell you this, industry people. networking ladies...fuck off. Seriously, I don't need your products, I'm not going to push your shit, you don't give a shit about art. It is only about money, or fake popularity.
I started all of this when no one did, no one was out here, telling the truth on camera. I was pleading with women to get out the kitchen and follow their dreams. Because this is real to me. Not a hobby. I am a feminist with a captial Fk You to taking away women's rights. Being a full time artists IS my mission statement. I do it and create a space where you, if you want, can do it too.
Somedays I wash my hair, most days I wake up and go straight to the easel. And you know what, its gonna just get more intense from here. I'm writing a book that I am going to publish, myself, little me in her little studio cave in SLC. I am going to paint giant canvas and BE. AN ARTIST.
This mixed media community we have is special but you industry chicks, you leaders in the field, (except Pam Carriker she is the only one I truely respect, and if I left someone out and you are cool then you know I respect you. So don't get all crazy.) But omg, this craft community that has collided with the fine art community, of which could be a rEally good thing, becasue its made up of all women, except tim holtz but he's so distant on his own little planet and doesn't bother anyone. The craft community is like high school and I don't even want to try to fit in. Not anymore. I do what I do for the girl, for the woman, alone like me, in her cave, reaching out to her. Right now, I am talking to you, and I'm ignoring the chicks that comment here only to promote their blogs, their art, yadda yadda wtf who cares.
If you are in the craft industry, if you are in the mixed media world, and you dare to put DREAM BIG on your art and post it, and then fight against women's reproductive CIVIL rights, or against the rights of gay marriage a CIVIL RIGHT, don't. Make art that truly reflects how you feel. Don't post instagram aged photos of your tidy art room and make everyone think your life is awesome. post your hate. Say what you mean. Don't hide behind a tiarra and fake smile and tell the rest of us to Live Our Dreams....
Maybe it's the grief talking but I'm glad it finally is. I am an Artist. I speak my mind. I have balls you haven't even begun to see yet. They are slipping out of my shorts, just a peek. But they are huge under there. This isn't about business, this isn't about blogging. I get disgusted, seriously, nauseated, when I see E-classes - 'Learn How To Blog For Business.' Dude, give us a break, blog because you have something to say or something to show me. Show me your real life. Make me want to read. Give me a fucking reason to get up in the morning. I don't give a fuck if your little article is just to get me into your shop. It better have something real to say. If you waste my time I will never forgive you and I will never read you again.
Aren't you all sick of the phoney shit? These industry chicks, all kissey kissey, pimp me, I'll pimp you, la la la. fuck off.
K Im done. Don't blame it on my period either cause I take pills so I don't get that shit anymore.
Hey.... I'm breathing pretty good now : )