Who says its great to be an artist? It’s not great, it’s fantastic! Fantastic in the sense that your own destiny is governed by a never ending trail of observations that foster ideas that eventually take some form of physically palpable manifestation.
When the balloon of the ego is once again chastened coming down to earth to face the realities of paying rent one can ever rely upon a lifetime of encounters in finding ways of satisfying the unique demands of differing clienteles through a wealth of experience that has been gathered over the years.
Aficionados aside, the daily process of expressing one’s self is never banal. When disconnected from the necessity of commerce, mental artifacts inhabit a universe that extends possibility into the fractal infinite progression of eternity. Heady thoughts to be certain, but then, isn’t this what it is all about?