R.I.P. Post Modern Barbequeism

Well, today is the day. My moment of reckoning. I will go back to my place of living and begin to pack up my art supplies. It is truly a sad day, but at the same time it is kind of empowering. I don't like the ways it's going down, but I guess it's the way it's going to have to be.

I suppose when people give up on a dream it is never the way the intend on it going down. Dreams are never gradually sort of let go. They seem to always be crushed unrelentingly by the realities of a suck-type of linear concrete world. Never a good place for original thought provoking ideas to flourish.

Now-a-days it seems that it is harder and harder to have, keep, and maintain a dream. There are so many people out there that wish for other's failure and are quick to dismiss another's

ideas it is truly a sad state of affairs. Many people out there truly wish to believe in the pursuit of one's dreams, but the more and more I start to realize is that most people don't have dreams or gave up on them long, long ago. Maybe I should just be satisfied that I have gotten to try and live out my dream for as long as I have. It has been a fun ride, but like all things that are fun it must come to an end. And my end is near. Time to get up, get out, and give up on dreams.

Most people's dreams never come true, while most people never even have the chance to have an idea. I am not talking about winning the lottery or being the world's best basketball player. For the majority of the world these are not only dreams, but fantasy of an unrealistic nature.

This is why I at an early age I decided to set a realistic and obtainable dream. That of becoming an artist. Not the next Da Vinci, or Picasso. I didn't wish to sell million dollar paintings, but instead my dream was to make enough money eventually to keep myself in existence. Enough to pay for the bare necessities. Food, shelter, clothing, and art supplies. Nothing more and not in that particular order. I could do without the luxury items such as anything else. A car, a computer, a girlfriend, furniture. sometimes a bed. I figured that with all these sacrifices and by throwing myself into the proverbial fire I may to be able to join the ranks of a professional artist that survives of their craft. False.

This in hindsight was a poorly formulated idea. After ten years of struggle the economic strangle hold these modern times has been too much to withstand. The only way I see myself being pulled back into art is with the acquisition of my works. Which after staring at my works for the last decade or so I don't see this happening. The previous times I declared my break-up with art there was always something to pull me back in.

This time there is nothing.

Hope is gone.

Pessimism and cynicism are my new positivity towards the art world. Not against other artist or the institution of art, but rather just in general. The idea of art has worn itself out. I don't know exactly what I mean by that, but that is exactly what mean. No other way to describe it.

Normally people just say that's it. I'm done . This sucks. I quit! However, I am not most normal people. I felt propelled to declare my ending of art exploration in some form. And much like my art I have found no or very few respondents. Which is all the more justification for my putting an end to this era of my life. I would call people to notify them, but that seems a little more like looking for pity and that is not what this is about. I have chosen to write this through my blog

1) Because no one reads it anyway.

2) I will have something to go back to visually that will remind me if I ever do get the urge to start making art again. Help remind me what a mistake that venture was.

I honestly feel that I must give a scathing critique of my artistic career in order to truly appreciate how much of a failure it has been along with a drain on my quality of life. Art did open my world up to new experiences both good and bad although anything one does opens you up to new people and situations.

The more I think about it the more excited I get about packing up my failures and putting them in storage. Maybe it's like an investment. When I grow older and finally own a home. I'll have all this awesome art by some nameless nobody that no one knows. I can have my own home with truly one of a kind art. And I'll know this without a doubt because no one has bought anything.

So in concluding, I'll just say this follow your dreams, to a certain point. Don't do what I did or the lemmings and get one idea in your head and follow it until you soon realize that your plummetting to your own demise and it's too late to stop. I guess though in reality following one's dreams until thirty isn't too bad. There is still time to lick the wounds and give life another go.

So I guess what I am really saying to all those who actually do have the balls to follow your dreams don't give up until you've exhausted every last resource or your thirty years old. Which ever falls last. If you haven't succeeded by then... I say give up. Quit. You have my permission. You fought the good fight, but you lost. At least no one can say you didn't try.