It's possible that I'm having a midlife crisis. I changed my hairstyle and bought a holographic tracksuit. I also bought a pair of unnaturally bright orange sneakers to accent the tracksuit. This outfit starkly contrasts the earth tones I usually wear.
These superficial things reflect deeper changes. I'm painting again after more than a year off. But I'm not painting to accomplish anything in particular. I'm doing it for no other reason than the joy of moving paint around. This product apathy hasn't produced any good art. Only bad. But I keep making it.
At the same time, the professional world seems to be calling on me to become more cutthroat in business. This doesn't come naturally, and I'm not totally comfortable with the person it's making me into. But somewhere between covid and the Capitol Riot, I lost patience with getting stepped on by the clueless. And so far only good things have come from this changed attitude.
For many years, I felt as if art was a core part of my identity. Whatever else I was, I was an artist. Now I'm smearing umber and ochre around with no regard whatsoever for what's happening on the canvas. I'm resisting the temptation to throw my latest paintings directly in the trash while they're still wet. It doesn't matter if I'm an artist or not. I simply don't care anymore.
This midlife crisis of mine doesn't feel like a crisis. It feels like listening to random songs at top volume and playing with tech that's beginning to change the world. Like adding to my NFT collection while my physical neighborhood is trashed by vandals and looters for the third time this year. Like watching the future forming a tsunami of change and being okay with that.
