“… there were things I’ve always wanted to create, capture, say, share.”
Sometime yesterday afternoon, a certain member from one of the Facebook groups I’ve joined, Guhit Pinas, posted his attempt at ballpoint pen art. He was also asking other members for tips on how to improve his skills. Needless to say, his work needed a ton of improvement. Another member was quite fast to remark how he seemed to not even try at all. I myself was quite bemused at how someone would have the gall to post to an art group what looked like a 7 year old’s doodle on a half-sized sheet of intermediate pad.
While not usually one to partake in what I’ve come to see as rather inane attempts at coaching fellow artists, I’ve taken it upon myself to give him some basic (yet in his case, much needed) tips. He revealed how he’s rather proficient at using pencils, and that he’s now exploring the things he can do with another medium. As to how this guy can be bad at something eerily similar to what he was already using, I might as well never know.
A few comment exchanges later, he asked me for a sample of my own ballpoint pen art.It was then that I began to question my decision to put aside my passion for the arts.
Here was a guy who, without doubt, was so artistically challenged to the point wherein he’d be able to pass it off as postmodern, post-mortem, post-murder art. Yet, he perseveres to improve his craft and, even while running the risk of getting ridiculed by assholes like me, yearns to learn from just about anyone.
I have to concede, even though I admittedly sound like an elitist snob-of-a-bitch, I’m not particularly godly at these things. However, there were things I’ve always wanted to create, capture, say, share. Yet all I’ve been doing for the past couple of years was locking up what little I can contribute to the human artistic endeavor.
I’ve been busy. I’ve worked in various industries: telecoms, airlines, lighting, partying. Work ranged from typical office hours to shifts in entirely different time-zones, working in clubs to working in construction sites, getting stuck in the relative comforts of an office to getting stuck in hellish Manila traffic on the way to a client. I’ve gone out-of-town, surfing, hiking, procrastinating. I’m currently entering a new industry and starting a business with some friends.
I’ve been busy with so many things yet I failed to make time to document each adventure and waywardness, capture fleeting moments and thoughts, make more tangible memories of the present while the present wasn’t past.
I somehow convinced myself sometime ago that my search for financial stability couldn’t tolerate the childlike wonder which fuels me to create art. I locked it up in a room, with its pens and pencils and sketchpads and canvases and oils and acrylics and cameras and film canisters.
Today, I managed to start writing again. Today, I made a folder for all my best recent photos. Today, I’ll unlock the door.