Art making: getting even with the world.

Some people say that they're driven to produce their art.

I can't - I'm driven to distraction more often.

Some people say that it must be nice to have a creative outlet.

"Only if you're a Sunday painter" I say, because the act of creation often stems from frustration and or despair, and I work really hard to reduce those moments in my life.

Artmaking, to me, is prozac. A genuine distraction from the affairs of the foolish. A time to resolve frustrations, not by painting pictures or entertaining tortuous revenges, but time to determine EXACTLY how much respect I have lost or gained from those individuals who populate my life.

A time to relax from disappointments, little and large. They'll still be there afterwards, but I might as well hold something in my hands that, for once, didn't have a committee to approve it, didn't compromise my ideas to make it palatable to someone else, didn't do exactly as I told it too, but came alive and blossomed with a life of it's own.

It IS really difficult to stop, once started, to finish the launry, answer the phone, or go to work.