the beginning of the end

So, time for a small rant, I think. You all have been off the hook for waay too long.

In the wake of late-night craigslist binges and begging art galleries and studios for what is essentially indentured servitude, I fear that I and my art have unconsciously drifted to the shallow-end of the conceptual pool. Even worse, I have to entertain the possibility that I've been here the whole time with little California College of the Arts water-wings kicking in circles- making fun of all the little children here with me who are clearly all peeing in said pool. EVEN worse, I was probably the one peeing the whole time.

And now I have all this spare time for deep thought and organizing old desks and trimming what's left of my potted plants- I am truly just another thing in the world. I have no one to answer to but old Uncle Sam. My obstacles are more or less self-generated from now until I can find a ball and get it rolling. Which leads me back to this 'shallow and of the pool' stuff. I need to figure out just where in the pool I'm treading in. And why I ever got into it in the first place. I am forced to think about what it is that motivates me to make art even when no one is looking. I made a little list...

#1- New shit. Seriously. Just like I am convinced getting a new $600 bicycle will truly motivate me to ride more, I am convinced if I get a Mamiya 7 II or a new wider-angle lens for my Wista 4x5, I will not only shoot more, but I will WANT to shoot more. I will be in love with my perfect thing and its perfect process and I will crave the satisfaction I get when I utilize its wonderful capabilities for years to come.
I know how petty and materialistic that may sound, but hang in there with me. I think this may not be a totally insincere endeavor in the name of art.
We all do it in one capacity or another; we have all fallen in love with a goldfish at the ping-pong cup tent at the fair, we have all bought those Etnies which we hope will bring us, if not better skating skills, some form of street cred. The problem with goldfish and huge shoes is that at the end of the day that's just about all we have to show for our investment. And what I am after are tools; my new bike will provide me with reliable and efficient transportation and exercise, my new Mamiya will cause me to generate images, artwork, ideas. And even if my undying love for my new shit well... dies, at the end of the day I still have something to show for my investment. Temporary flux of creativity is better than no flux at all.

#2- Neurotic-hyper-sentimentality; I have it. I now realize that is probably how I became a photographer in the first place. I love so many things! -I want to see them forever.

#3- I've recently come to the understanding that religion, science and art are all means to a similar end. A kind of endeavor towards personal relevance and universal truth.

Or you know. Whatever. Stuff.

I'm sure (I hope) there are more than three reasons I absolutely positively must be a photographer, but I can sense lethargy sneaking into your heads. I'm surprised you got this far- I should probably buy you a beer!
All this being said, I should say I don't actually believe I am insincere in my artistic endeavors. At worst perhaps I lack direction, especially now since I haven't got a syllabus to run my finger down anymore. If at any point I was, I think I can safely say I'm not peeing in the pool (...not on purpose); I'm not contributing meaningless or unfulfilling waste into the art world (though I guess that's entirely subjective. I still don't think so though). I am finding my sea-legs on the S.S. Recession! I am justifying myself to myself! I have shed academia altogether! At least till I decide I want an MFA! Or to work at a school! Or something!

!

I owe you all a beer.