Weekly Blog: Looking Forward, not Back
Part of my thinking this week started with this great YouTube by OhPanda titled “YouTube Dreams and Aspirations”. It is, in my humble opinion, of course, just under twenty minutes of your time well spent.
What resonated with me is where Panda comments that he is committing to YouTube because there is no money in Instagram. He points out that good things have happened because of his videos on Instagram and that the awesome (my words) Grateful Gallery came about partly as a result of that endeavour. However, even good things take money.
And money is why Panda is putting his video work on YouTube and investing in that platform. Money is what allows all artists to make art. Without money for artists, there is no art. Even AI slop costs, you could argue, given the billions going into AI, that AI crud costs even more than art by artists. With 58% of artists in a survey highlighted by Contemporary Art Issue making $25k or less per year, art is not a gravy train for the majority. If we expand further to other creative pursuits, I would suspect the picture becomes even less lucrative.
Sadly, money is something somewhat taboo, pretty much a dirty word. Even after watching Panda honestly stating how awesome the privilege is to be able to make art and craft a life that you can enjoy, and how that takes money to sustain, I was reluctant to write about anything financial. I mentioned my dream farm, the farm that poetry built, but that’s okay because I wasn’t putting a detailed costing and starting a fundraiser.
However, this week I have been doing the adult thing: sorting my personal finances. I don’t like doing it. I will be doing a retrospective of twenty-five nearer the new year. Today I am focused on things I want to achieve in twenty-six. I have committed to a year of Adobe Suite (there are exit fees if you go early), and to website hosting, with domain based email, neither is pocket change. If my health allows, I want to expand my horizons in twenty-six into the realm of spoken word, and I would like to do more events focused on developing my writing craft. These things, while individually not necessarily expensive, like subscriptions and memberships, add up very quickly. Not even mentioning how I want to keep up my practice of art galleries, exhibitions and artistic events like the Royal Conservatoire Scotland and even the odd ballet or theatre night.
In short, I want to be as active as possible, participate in culture, not lurk here behind a keyboard. I also haven’t lost sight of my goal of publishing my work beyond the internet into print. I have plans that I plan (see what I did there), to put into a little more detail in the new year. I know my health can intervene at any time; however, I am being deliberately ambitious because I do have a life that I enjoy. I am not dwelling on the challenges or my health’s precariousness, today anyway, because twenty-five has shown me that I can do things, however small, that help me grow as a creative artist pretty much every week. Not every day, but in seven days, I can find something, so I am learning to appreciate that, even when those things feel insignificant. Every step is just that, a step.
I feel I should be more Christmassy at this point in time; I have already visited Santa, and “not until Christmas”, supplies are already being stored. There are presents to wrap and things to be done. Concerts and performances have been and gone, bookings confirmed, dinner choices made. It’s actually quite fab and the weather has already ticked the box for frightful, so my fingers are crossed for delightful from here on into the new year and beyond.
Art is about asking questions of yourself and taking risks, doing new things, as Van Gogh said, “I am always doing what I cannot do yet in order to learn how to do it”. So, for my blog readers only, I am going to share an experimental piece I wrote and would love your feedback on it.
This is: Not Your Favourite Song — which is based on “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol
We’ll do it all, everything, on our own
We don’t need anything or anyone
But we don’t, do we?
That’s not the story you tell. In that version, you do it all, you carry everything. You are the hero that needs no redemption. You did it all, pulled yourself and me up by your own bootstraps.
Me? That’s the other story, the one who needs everything, takes everything, drains everything, spoils everything, supports nothing. It’s all down to my mental health. I heard that I‘m the problem
If I lay here, if I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
You might. There would be a price to pay for your time. The piper is always paid; nothing is free. You couldn’t forget the world in case the world forgot you and how important you are. Or, of course, how much trouble I am. How could anyone forget how terrible I am?
I don’t quite know how to say how I feel
Those three words are said too much, they’re not enough
This much is true. If actions are never enough, then how could words ever be? There are words like desolate, lonely, scared, but they can never be said out loud. Instead, it’s three words that mean you can hurt me, and it’s ok. They mean you can control my every minute for my own good, they mean you read every email, message, letter, post, to check I am doing as I’m told. Is anything enough?
If I lay here, if I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told, before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life
You sing the lines devoid of irony. I can never forget what I am told. My garden mustn’t grow because that is not the story to be told. I am not the one who must be in bloom.
Let’s waste time chasing cars around our heads
I need your grace to remind me to find my own
What is grace, forgiveness? I know of atonement and shame. I know that I am to blame. There is no forgiveness, especially for me.
All that I am, all that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all I can see
I don’t know where, confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
I didn’t change; that much you said was true. I lost everything I built, all the things I could rely on ripped away, every relationship gone with a quiet word. The whisper of a story you built to imprison me before you threw away the key. The things that will never change are not the ones you planned so meticulously; not everything can go to plan, you see.
If I lay here, if I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world
You never would, never did, but that’s okay. Today I lie here, not six feet under like you planned. Instead, I lie, and tonight I wonder, do you hate this song as much now as you did then? Does it remind you of everything I ever was and could be?
