A sort of diary

[troebia]

Hello, it's been a while. I briefly tried another psych forum that seemed more active with more members, but the content and commenting there felt "instagrammy" and sort of shallow.

In my drafts folder on this forum there were these entries stored but not posted. I thought that instead of just flushing them away, I could get them out there to you:

Aug 10, 2021

The last few weeks I've been more than usually sad, lonely and confused. I'm very glad that you all and this forum exists, because it seems to be the only place right now where I can read about raw feelings and feel some sort of connection. Perhaps by writing here I can begin to process what's going on and maybe get some input from you. Or just let me rant on in this thread in peace

It could be so much worse I suppose. I could be in a toxic relationship, I could be homeless, I could be in extreme financial trouble, I could be without access to healthcare. There are practical challenges of course, but I seem to be able to deal with them impassionately. I'm 56 years old and I've acquired the stoic philosophy whenever small stuff goes pear-shaped. Me and my wife worked very hard to save up resources to buy a rural house and fixed it up together. What I like least about the place is that we're in a zone in Southern Europe with very litle rainfall and everything that grows has to be irrigated and continually checked on. In the North, water falls from the sky and plants just get by on their own.

One of the reasons for my loneliness is that I've been cutting away people that have caused me spiritual pain or were just jerks. Making the decision with family hurts the most.
This year I decided to break contact with a cousin, we're the same age and we've been close for practically our whole lives. But he's bipolar plus something else and I'm not up to the effort any more, he simply drains me of energy even by talking on the phone. Last time we saw each other I narrowly avoided a physical confrontation between him and a guy at a gas station, since my cousin was making obscene gestures at his girlfriend. When I told my cousin he was making a fool out of himself and to get in the car, he nearly ripped my door off. I thought,"I'm too old for this sh_t..."
Another cousin dropped by a couple of years ago with her boyfriend and spent two days lounging around. Next year I get a text, "We're planning on coming over this year too." OK, I said. Then she casually mentions that she's planning on bringing all her kids and even her sister's family, eleven(!) people in all. I was so disappointed, there was no point in me discussing the matter so I simply told her no and blocked her when she said "Wait, maybe only seven...!"
I don't really miss seeing my mother either because she doesn't enjoy being outside her house, she's literally counting the hours to the flight back home when she's been over, or when we've been on a trip together with our daughter who lives elsewhere. Just imagine driving together through a wonderful landscape and the person next to you has that tense worried look on her face and looking at her watch every two minutes, although she's supposed to be with us four more days.

I joined several local online groups and tried going out on events and trips with other sketchers and painters, and have really tried to find a connection. But inevitably I end up quitting, after finding mainly these types of people:

• I am an ARTIST and I possess superior knowledge and skill. If you express any opinion I'll make sure to let everyone know how wrong and how ignorant you are.
• I am a shy little mouse and don't make any comment on my work because I'm going to break down and cry.
• I always do the same painting, since I've got it all figured out and why do something different? Everyone loves my paintings. I don't really talk about feelings, that's for sissies. Well, I'm done here, let's go to the bar.

Aug 18, 2022

I've been mulling over whether to post for some weeks now. There's something in my way of thinking about life that has changed, and I now get pangs of futility and a sense or wish that it would be best to suddenly evaporate and disappear. I'm not suicidal and in fact pursue several small creative projects. I'm not "letting stuff go" either, I do the chores and keep things running at home. But there's a creeping sensation of dread and futility, my body in decent health but slowly decaying (I'm 57). When I'm around people now I keep wondering what makes them tick, because I feel so empty. Some people I know of my age have grandkids and it seems to keep them busy, but I worry about what kind of world we're passing on to them.

Recently on vacation I had a very odd spiritual experience, a combination of being in a beautiful garden and suddenly feeling enclosed in a bubble of joy, and at the same time feeling totally powerless and at the whim of "something". Then a week later my dog died, and I felt it as a punishment for the elation I felt in that garden. I'm not a believer but now I imagine getting small hints and glimpses of something bigger than us. Small coincidences that could have big consequences for a single person, like being hit by a stray bullet or winning the lottery, and I'm not sure anymore it's pure chance. It all feels depressing. I'm looking for a new dog and "fate" will decide how it's going to turn out.

July 4, 2023 (I'm writing today)

I went to about five sessions of therapy some months ago, then stopped because it was a combination of not a good fit and realizing that the therapist didn't want to address my specific issues right away, but first put me through a fixed program of maybe 20 sessions of CBT to get more money out of me first.

There seems to be no way I can get my sh*t together and progress artistically. The last couple of years have felt like ten or fifteen for me, and like running around in circles mentally and creatively. Getting decent works done and sold would definitely help me now, since I'm semi-retired and basically unemployable at 57.

We got a new dog last year from a shelter. He's been severely traumatized and fears all men, but will approach women and take food and let himself be cuddled by them. I'm trying to get him to trust me but it's been seven months and he still won't come when I call him, or take food from my hand.

[oak]

Troebia, hello. It is a pleasure to see you, and thank you for sharing. I hope you have been doing well. Feel free to continue to share, as you feel so inspired.

I’d like to offer a response, later today, that your excellent journal entries deserve.

In the meantime, since imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, do you mind if I create my own post, inspired by your post here, about my own tortured experience with the art world?

[troebia]

, do you mind if I create my own post, inspired by your post here, about my own tortured experience with the art world?

Hi Oak, it would be very interesting to read about your own experiences with art!

[oak]

Thank you, Troebia. Inspired by your excellent journal post, I offer my thoughts on my experiences with art-people.

Caveat: every time I point one finger at someone else, I point three at me ("If I spot it, I got it").

Overall experiences with art people
My recent trips to the art museum
My work friend with two MFAs
Art and arrested development

Overall experiences with art people

Overall, most experiences with "art people" have been negative: I am not for everyone, but I won't be condescended.

I will talk to anyone, except art people. Not anymore.

My recent trips to the art museum

While I appreciate art (except "modern art", which I have heard compelling evidence that is tax fraud), I don't have much interest in it.

I do have lots of interest in specific people who are into it (read: attractive women).

Nearby we have a world-class art museum, and it regularly has a monthly after-work mixer: dressing up, live music, and of course art.

I admit I go simply to be around dressed up, together women. Besides, if the art world is already filled with hypocrites, then there is space for one more!

(At least I admit my art phoniness.)

My work friend with two MFAs

I had a good work friend, a few years ago, who had two Masters of Fine Arts.

He was a great guy, a true work friend, and never he complained.

He had a lifelong string of menial jobs; all work has dignity, but my friend seemed lack a certain fire: he was fairly listless about his work. Likewise, he lived in something between (I do not exaggerate; perhaps Treobia knows a few like this) a treehouse and a shed. I believe it had electricity and running water, but not heat.

Be it work, housing, or dating (I believe he developed a romantic interest in me that I could not reciprocate) he never seemed to find his niche.

And here he was such a good guy.

A local Unitarian church displayed his artwork... in a back hallway. That was his main exposure for his art.

I hate typing all of the above, because it paints (ha!) him as to appear as a loser.

But he isn't a loser!

All the phonies at the art museum are losers. I can't stand any of them, yet my good and decent friend was less than nothing to them.

Art and arrested development

I've observed, and "three fingers pointing back at me" definitely applies here, that most artists (or "artists") I've met have arrested psychological development.

Thinking about my work friend this morning, about how he settled for so little while pursuing his art, inspires me to do better: do better at my job, take better care of my teeth, and take pickleball and barre more seriously.

I need to grow the hell up.

I am glad art exists so traumatized people can heal and express themselves. Yet, like Troebia mentions in their post, many of them circle around and around the same painting/song/poem.

I won't judge them, but I can learn from their negative example: I'll take a stand on something vibrant and visceral, such as holding a plank longer in barre, than tilt at the windmills in my mind about the "injustices" "the art world" endlessly puts upon "artists".

Said another way: there is a time for the life of the mind, but too much of this lands us among the tragic "artists" that Troebia so well described. They demonstrate a tragic childishness.

[troebia]

Oak, I enjoyed reading your insightful, funny and revealing reply and I hope maybe more will want to join us on this conversation/collective journal.

When you say "modern" art, are you referring to contemporary art created nowadays as opposed to, say, stuff up to impressionism? I don't understand much of what is in the galleries today but I do enjoy James Kalm's YouTube channels https://www.youtube.com/@jameskalm and https://www.youtube.com/@jameskalmroughcut. He visits lots of new shows in NY and also comments on contemporary artists and their works. You may also glimpse the occasional attractive woman lost in contemplation

And who decides what is art anyway? My own opinion is that it has to make me feel something, not just admiration of the technique and the accurate likeness of the subject, for example. I've known people who could paint perfect portraits but that looked stale and cold, like an advertisement or a filtered cell phone photo.

Thinking about the friend you mention and also some artists I've met, it's probably true that it helps to have a screw or two loose to create. I very much like the "outsider art" made by people with mental issues, there are lots of fairs on YouTube, for example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mANBcKnhxew. Probably 90% of my own scribbles and sketches look like that, as if something's a bit off, especially the ones I do to relieve anxiety. I like drawing things with imperfections, like broken trees and mutilated beings, almost like a protest against the general strive for perfection in our world. I may not be successful in "real" life but all that doesn't matter when I scribble, it's like an escape to another world.

I've filled so many sketchbooks that I sometimes make a selection of a few pages and throw the rest in the recycle bin. I once made a video of me lighting the wood stove with a finished sketchbook and shared it online, and a friend later told me it horrified her to "see it all go to waste". She plays the piano herself and I told her much of what I do is like practising scales: it's not meant to be seen by anyone. I repeat patterns a lot (the "around in circles" thing maybe) and to force myself out of it I'll change medium, like from ink to watercolor, gouache or crayons. It may not lead anywhere but it helps me go on.

[snoringdog]

Hello Troebia

Good to hear from you again, it's been a long time!

I had a friend who was an artist, and maybe had some of the traits Oak mentions.
And it seems that the impulse for artistic expression is ancient -

https://www.oldest.org/artliterature/cave-paintings/

Will check out the Youtube links.

(There's the art itself, and then the whole "ecosystem" that's developed around it, right?)

SD

[troebia]

Hi snoringdog, welcome to the conversation

Those cave paintings are so fantastic, and imo they underline how natural it is for humans to express emotion through paint...since forever.

But why would you necessarily separate "art" from the effects it has on society? Isn't it lovely that people are prepared to spend millions on an object that in itself essentially is without value? For example a piece of paper or canvas with some marks on it, while other pieces of paper and canvases are ignored and considered worthless. Banksy spray paints a piece of wall with a stencil in five minutes, and they'll tear out the wall from the building and put it into a museum.

I don't mind that what I do is ignored, because what makes me create comes from within as I process my feelings. I don't crave recognition (though it would help financially to be able to sell something, for sure). There's an internal struggle and sometimes even anger and tears, and very occasionally some joy and relief. It's almost as having a capricious and spiteful lover that you're unable to abandon, or maybe like an extremely addictive drug like heroin.

[snoringdog]

Wow. Thanks for the insight (from a non-artist) but one who is often captivated by it.
Do you think the ancients commented on each other's work (methinks they did, of course! )

My friend did speak of a sort of compulsion to sketch and paint, and we discussed how art advanced with the introduction of new material and techniques (i.e. what we'd call "technology" today.)

Understood about Banksy and all. (I wish I'd peeled off some Keith Harings from the NYC subway walls back in the 80's when I had the chance. ).

Unfortunately, there's a snootiness among the rich and the collectors today, and if you're not part of the "in crowd", you're excluded. Are Van Gogh's paintings really more beautiful today than when they first appeared at the ends of his brushes?

About "Modern Art", I think it helps to look at it in context. There's a discussion and an historical flow to art, that if missed, makes on wonder "what the hell is this?" (e.g. Mark Rothko as an example).

And standing in front of Jackson Pollack's "Blue Poles" at the Modern is something I can still feel. It seemed almost alive.

SD

[oak]

Hi Troebia.

Warning: This post begins awash in cynicism and ends firmly woo-woo!

You know what they say: scratch a cynic and you'll find a disappointed idealist.

When you say "modern" art, are you referring to contemporary art created nowadays as opposed to, say, stuff up to impressionism?

I wrote several long paragraphs about my half-considered distain for non-representational art, but I felt my thoughts generated more heat than light. Instead, I'll offer a brief thought on some modern art I do appreciate.

An exception proves the rule that I appreciate modern art: I, a cynic when it comes to art, had my breath taken away by the Anselm Keifer painting Lot's Wife.

https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1990.8.b

And who decides what is art anyway?

An important question.

This was skewered by the charming/smart podcast "Topics" (two comedians parody NPR stuffiness), which may give you a chuckle:

https://topics.simplecast.com/episodes/6-what-is-art-GK8izcOJ

I've filled so many sketchbooks that I sometimes make a selection of a few pages and throw the rest in the recycle bin. I once made a video of me lighting the wood stove with a finished sketchbook and shared it online, and a friend later told me it horrified her to "see it all go to waste".

I think this is a lovely, generous, freeing ritual.

At the risk of being woo-woo, I think this releases the spirit, the muse, which came to us unbidden, for a little while. Releasing it creates space for the next muse. You release the muse with gratitude.

Like most things, Frank Sinatra puts it better than I do, in a different context (a lost summer love); "Summer Wind":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DopzOCeKJc&ab_channel=FrankSinatra-Topic

A final thought

And, if you'll forgive me for being woo-woo again:

I think that sometimes our muses choose us: barre chose me, ice baths chose Mental Fairy, and perhaps art chose you. We give little daily sacrifices, in our fumbling efforts with barre and art, to our muses.

[troebia]

And standing in front of Jackson Pollack's "Blue Poles" at the Modern is something I can still feel. It seemed almost alive.

There you have it, the meaning and purpose of art. Although Pollock personally leaves me rather cold since I can't "enter" what he expresses. Rothko on the other hand, invites me to meditation...a mood instead of something concrete like a scene of something happening or someone posing.

An exception proves the rule that I appreciate modern art: I, a cynic when it comes to art, had my breath taken away by the Anselm Keifer painting Lot's Wife.
https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1990.8.b

He's really good, and I especially like the thickness, the darkness. When I look at the whole set, I don't know if those tracks lead to an escape/holiday/freedom or straight into a concentration camp. He's put us on the train and we have to decide for ourselves.

https://topics.simplecast.com/episodes/6-what-is-art-GK8izcOJ

That was really funny and quirky, with one of the guys taking the role of "it has to look exactly like what you're painting to be art". I mean, haven't we moved on from that? Just imagine Munch's "Scream" like a photo of a regular guy on a bridge, it would fall rather flat no matter how much Photoshop is put into the sunset behind.

Like most things, Frank Sinatra puts it better than I do, in a different context (a lost summer love); "Summer Wind":
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DopzOCeKJc&ab_channel=FrankSinatra-Topic

You're a sentimental at heart, Oak

We give little daily sacrifices, in our fumbling efforts with barre and art, to our muses.

I would really much like to have a muse or at least a theme that inspires and pulls me forward, obsessively. I'm not thinking of something sexual, instead more like what I described in my "journal", being aesthetically overwhelmed. Maybe it would lead to disaster, and I'd better plod on without it