I've always dodged the concept of "being driven" because I sensed something psychically unhealthy about it, and potentially gravely disappointing as reality smacked me head on. In addition, as I was raised by a military sergeant, I always misinterpreted the word "discipline" as a punitive consequence, rather than a beneficial character trait. Hence, I've always reveled in joyous indiscipline. It's taken me years to change that paradigm. My father's intended lessons are only just now penetrating my consciousness, 50 years after the fact. Do I regret my indiscipline? Well, no. I might be richer financially were it not for it, but instead, I'm richer spiritually because of it.
As I travel and meet many super-talented folks in this world — writers, photographers, painters, craftsmen, singers, songsmiths and players of all ilk of instruments (and sometimes, ALL of the above) — I realize there's a tribe of sorts that I enjoy the company of. And only few are fortunate enough to earn a living, peripherally even, from their skills; most are trading lifetimes for modern sustenance, postponing their natural drive. I was one.
While the economics of stubborn persistence-against-all-odds is never practical for artists, it's just something we do, regardless. But, what is success? In earnest I couldn't say I know at all. I think I personally might measure it piece-by-piece — that great song I spontaneously wrote and recorded on my iPhone last week that only a handful of friends will ever hear... That last painting that will never sell... And, so what? Though I have no problem accepting money for my art, I still have a problem tailoring my next project in pursuit of money, or even approval.
So, I'm not driven, really. I'm still indisciplined. I just have mind's-eye images I like to materialize; I hear tunes I like to pick out on guitar; I spew stream-of-consciousness phrases that become lyrics; and I see the wonder around me and document it somehow.
And you're one of the handful of friends that will ever see it.
Oh, by the way, my latest stuff:
Fairy Ring
24x24 oil on canvas
One of my granddaughters, Baylor, was laid back on the floor and I took some snapshots. I paired this with many ground images from the woods. When considering how I might contrive a circular halo of sorts, I chanced upon a fungal distribution of mushrooms that formed a circle on the woods floor. I learned it's called a fairy ring. How appropriate!
36x36 acrylic on canvas
A profile pose referenced from a Victorian painting, the figure is paired with three yards of inexpensive fabric. The study resulted in an angelic image, though exhausted-looking. Dropping the broken wing and feathers into the foreground took the story a little further down the line.
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