OF SOMEONE WHO IS TO BLAME FOR YOUR FAILINGS AND FIASCOS
YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SIT DOWN FOR A WEEK.
That’s a bit of free fortune-telling for people complaining about “circumstances” that prevented them from doing something they wanted or had to do.
There’s a lot of “talent” out there bemoaning expensive marble/canvas/paint, uneducated customers who buy kitsch, and art dealers who take exorbitant commissions and are only interested in selling to basic-instinct oligarchs.
Yes, today’s patrons are investors, interested in the growth of their money, not in the development of their intellect. For most of the Medici art was expenditure. For most of today’s serious art buyers the object they acquire should have net present value and ROI above the current bank rate,
Which means, if you feel you are a great artist, and want to stay one, you may have to wait tables during the day. Then, the only circumstance to complain about would be the size of your tips, and a lack of sleep, but not inability to produce art.
I never thought about myself as a great artist. But I felt myself a pretty good art critic.
And that’s exactly why I thought that complaining about art critics who write senseless sequences of multi-syllable words to camouflage the absence of meaning is punishing my own bottom, which God created to comfortably sit on, not lash at. I could start writing art criticism with simple words, clear illustrations and engaging stories to wrap up art in its context. Snugly resting in the luxury of a wing chair, all the way through the process.
And here I am, churning out posts like this, which seem to be enjoyed by a growing number of visitors across the globe.
Just as your average great artist, to be able to write posts like this, I have to work elsewhere. Not waiting tables, I have to admit, but sometimes I think waiting tables could be an easier option.
Thanks, Daily Prompt, for asking, “Why did you start you blog?”
Because I could do differently what I thought should be done in a different way.