Why do I feel this compulsion to write and blog and vlog?  Like Eric Blair aka George Orwell I always knew I wanted to be a writer and despite detours into the real world the urge and the need to put pen to paper and use words to create, describe, express, question and explain my world never left me. No matter how hard I tried to quash it. I don’t do writing I am a writer. Writing is not a hobby I can put aside when it’s inconvenient and it’s part of who I am.
I grew up in an environment of constant criticism and disparagement.
At home I was stupid, ignorant, childish, naive. Instead of answering questions I was told to stop asking them, instead of showing and teaching I was mocked for not knowing. Most of all it was made clear that no one wanted to hear what I had to say, my thoughts were too stupid to be worth hearing and no one cared what I thought anyway because I was of no worth to anyone except as a figure of fun.
The school system I was educated in had very strict ideas about what constituted good, worthy and worthwhile art. Most of all art in any form had to be acceptable within the confines of the social mores and morals of the school system,comfortable and unchallenging. If you refused to straightjacket your work it was deemed unacceptable and given a failing grade. At the same time you were expected to strive for greatness. The idea of creating art for the sake of expressing yourself or worse still because you simply enjoyed it was almost heretical. If you couldn’t be the next Betjeman, Shakespeare, Lawrence, Olivier, Rockwell or Michelangelo what was the point?  To be an artist you must be want to be ‘successful’ which meant critical acclaim and fame and hopefully wealth.
The weight of these arbitrary rules, expectations and conditions were used to crush budding artistic personalities into conformity.
Combined this with the demons of self doubt and self loathing instilled by my home life and you have a perfect recipe for self sabotaging behaviours.
Which brings me to now.
I have always had the courage of my convictions. I’ve never feared standing up and speaking out for what I believe is right and against what I believe is wrong. It’s time I was as convicted and courageous about myself as I am about other issues. It’s not so easy because I can’t do research or find facts to support this cause but I know what is right is I must continue to string words together to tell stories, to ask questions, to explain my world view. What is wrong is my continuing under the crushing weight of my past which stops me from doing what I am compelled to do.
My work may be for me but it is also for the people who view it, part of creating art in any form is you don’t know what the consequences of putting it out there for people to see. I hope people who encounter my work might be entertained, find something thought provoking maybe even begin to ask their own questions,perhaps I will make someone smile or spur them into action. I’d like to think seeing something I’ve done will help someone not feel so alone or misunderstood and give themselves permission to believe in themselves and their value as a person.
I know I will be judged and there will be people who take pleasure in criticizing others and their work. If people do feel the need I hope they will do so in an educated and knowledgeable way regarding my work and not simply attack for the sake of being negative. I have finally developed the skills to see when an attack is on the person not the work and to give them the short shrift they deserve. I’ve also finally accepted that there really are no rules and you don’t have to confine yourself to the diktats of others. Society will not crumble and the world won’t stop turning because I’ve decided to make it up as I go along according to my own artistic intent and shake off the shackles of my past.