It's more of a compulsion, a habit. Like the need to eat or to breathe. I don't wake up in the morning and decide to draw...more so I think about when I will have my pen in hand. I constantly think about the paper. Untouched. Unfinished. Challenging me. Daring me to make a mark.
It's a desperate need to communicate to an audience-to myself mostly.
I don't believe my art to be brave or symbolic. It's not accessing some deeper part of myself or society. I do (as do most artists) create a new reality that exists solely in that sheet of paper.
I see creating art as discovery, knowledge, even clarity and insight into self. Into who I am, my limits (self created). In my own ability as a human being.
I'm taking what I know, what I've experienced and re-imagining it onto paper.
Being an artist means living a solitary life. One, however, with many of my peers experiencing something similar. It's comforting to know that I'm connected, even in isolation.
I'm not the only one feeling compelled to practice the habit that is art-making.
