Friday, August 25, 2000

 

12:16 a.m. There is only one thing between artistic success and failure, I think. It's hard to remember and easy to forget. It isn't the paycheck or the award or the good reviews, much as you might want those things. It's the decision not to quit. That's it. That's all there is to it.

It's a funny thing. You can't call yourself a success just because someone else calls you a success. You can't feel good about yourself just because someone else thinks you're good. It's so weird -- you've got to doggedly plow on, snowblind and unblinking, in spite of whatever anyone throws your way. You've got to keep on going because that's what you do. That's who you are.

And then there's the public, versus the private artist.

I guess we all have a private dialogue with the moment. We all know what it feels like -- for me, I'm feeling it right now -- this is the moment where the pixels meet the screen and I erase and try again. I twist the thoughts around until I make some sense, or I erase it and I try again. It's a relay. When one sentence works the way it should, I have an easy handoff to the next, and the next.

Or, I wait. And I try something else. If it makes it out of the incubator of The Moment, I feel comfortable that it will last a little while in the outside world. I believe it's alive, and I send it on its way. If the public hates it -- that's ok, too. I know the public has many faces. And I know what it is that I'm making.

I've been thinking about art a lot lately, especially as I contemplate, along with some of my favorite online journalists, how much longer I should consider writing here every day. Forgive me for not mentioning names, but the journalists I'm talking about are hugely popular and the last thing any one of them needs is more publicity and more letters to answer about a private issue that hasn't been decided.

I think that when you wonder if you're good enough, or any good at all -- I think that's the time to really dig in and go down to the next level. You've probably just run out of air and yes, you need a change of atmosphere. On the other hand, if you don't want to dig, scrape, burrow, or otherwise hack your symbols out of the sheer rockface any longer -- I suppose I might agree that you can quit.

But, I don't think you *should* quit. Not ever.

It isn't just that misery likes company. It's much more than that. Misery absolutely loves company and since we're all miserable, we all love the company. We also need to hear each other's voices in the dark or we would go mad from the isolation.

Lately, I've been trying to decide how far from my life's goals I have strayed. How would I even know? Am I in the right place right now, doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Or is that too arrogant a question to ask?

I mean -- what if this is a perfect universe and what if we're always in the right place doing the right thing? What if I'm filling the all-important slot of failure? What if that's my special, secret mission -- to make those who know me feel better about themselves just because they're not me?

See what you get when you think too much?