What is it that compels a person to fear the end of their lives? The answer to this question has been argued about since basically forever. Logical minds often say it can be attributed to the fear of the unknown, to which we are all reduced to in our basic primal nature. Psychologists might say it can be blamed on the Ego, that we cannot really conceive of a world that exists without us, before or after. That reality outside of our immediate perception can only be abstract to us because we revolve around our internal selves. I'm not a scholar or a real philosopher so most people in this age wouldn't take my perspective seriously. I am ok with this, truly I have grown beyond the need of external validation. I know and am finally comfortable within myself which I consider to be a major accomplishment. What does bother me though is that all this growth, all these experiences, everything I have seen and felt and done will one day mean absolutely nothing. What will be left when I am gone? Will it all have been for naught?

Funnily enough I was watching this silly show the other day, Blark and Son, specifically the episode where Blark visits Stacy for a shrink session funded by little cheesers coupons, and Stacy details for Blark what an "immortality project" is and it put words to what I've been thinking about so much lately. I think most people have something like that they work on when they get the time even if they don't know it. Improving their homes, fixing up their cars, writing, crafting and making art and all sorts of things like that, and of course having kids. I've been considering getting a titanium plate and etching into it the story of my life, my family, my home and stashing it somewhere so it can be looked at by archeologists hundreds of years from now. Something that says "I was here, I have lived, I existed."

I might still do it, we have the means and access to the materials and a cnc machine. Not unlike the Sumerian tablets we could, if we wished, make incorruptible proofs of our world so when we are gone the proofs remain. Still, is it enough? Is it wrong for me to feel like I am entitled to memory in a world I no longer exist in? Probably. I call myself an artist and really I am but its unlikely I will make anything significant enough to survive me by any great measure. (cont.)



Eris, by me late 2010s, Digital Painting

So, all this being said I think you can understand my motivation to write a mediocre blog. The conflict within myself between having no desire to be known and simultaneously wanting to leave my mark on the world isn't without its irony. At first my ambition was to write a series of essays about different subjects regarding art and philosophy and leave my personal life out of it but I realized what a joke that was, both of those things are inherently personal to me. Also I realized that artists people remember weren't the ones that hid away from the world. Van Gough was a introvert and generally alienated from society very much like myself, he is remembered but not so much because he put himself out there, more due to his vast body of work and his groundbreaking techniques. Comparing myself to him is not unlike comparing a plankton to a whale.

I also don't have the ability to just make art on a whim. The muse has to be with me, and I don't say it to be a pretentious twit. If I sit down to make something without FEELING it nothing good comes of it. As you can see with Eris, I had the idea but I had to force myself through it but below, This water buffalo was made with pure spark and I really feel you can see the difference. Its not perfect but it felt amazing to make it, when the muse strikes creation is the easiest thing in the world. Without it art feels futile.



I hope the spark returns to me soon but in the meantime life happens. Summer is here and I have a ton of stuff to do that requires a great deal of energy to properly procrastinate. Stress is a tide that is always rising higher than I know how to cope with. Responsibilities abound and life has to be lived right now regardless if anyone is going to know I lived it.