In 2006 I left San Marcos, Texas with the aspirations to build a new beginning towards this direction I call an art carreer. An old, wiser man once told me, "Don't ever feel like you're locked into something to where you cannot change". Well, I understand all of that, the only trouble is having no idea where or what your into. It's sort of like being out in the desert, I guess, but even out there one can navigate nocturnally via the moving stars. There's no telling, as the elders I grew up with have always spoke.
So far, the plans I set forth to accomplish have been met. A studio was built, a wood and framing shop also, even the accumilation of ample supplies stockpiled. However, the one thing that has been missing as of late is the spirit, the drive, the will and the want to, the direction. Lost. It is discouraging. Moreover, solitude can take a heavey toll. Part of what art is about is feeling human, or having human interaction and contact. But I have, at some point, chosen this exile. Nothing that I'm really locked into, but something that is extremely pressing on the spirit, this solitude. Sometimes I wonder if I'm gifted or cursed. If the craziness that humanity associates with the artist is a blessing, or a damnation. It sure feels like the latter, especially when no one is around, or when they seem to run away and not speak. Then how is it that we can keep from becoming locked into one thing? What scars do we leave upon one anothers spirit that may or may not trap us? The marks that either able or disable us from our hearts desires. It makes me ponder the nature of our spiritual orgins. It solidifies the belief of good and bad, spiritual positive and negative, and the labrinths of each.