Each time I make art, I feel one step closer to...something.
Now, let me say that I don't want to pollute your blog reading time with grand philosophical ideas, and I also don't want to come across as one of those chemically altered hippie artist types, but this feeling is hard to express - so please forgive my vague dreaminess. There just isn't an exact vocabulary to accompany this line of thought.
"What?," you ask. "Are you stoned/drunk/sleep deprived/from New Zealand?"
No. Sorry. I am not any of those things. I can only clarify my point by saying that when I spend my time making art, it feels significant. Maybe not in the grand scheme of things. I mean I make pictures. I don't do cancer research. I don't practice medicine. So, how can the cupcake I drew be significant? I don't know. But when I spend my time doing this, I am overcome with the notion that I am doing exactly what I'm meant to be doing. And that feels good.
Of course, there's always the option that I'm just tricking myself into believing that it's the right thing just to justify the fact that I've managed to hold onto my love of coloring for about 25 years longer than most people. Who can tell?
I guess we'll just call it significant. Hooray! I win.