Disenchanted on a Sunday

I've been relatively artistically frustrated these days. When pursuing creative endeavors as a career it's natural to doubt yourself since your livelihood is dependent on your ability to stay creative, interesting, accomplished, talented, and fresh. I just feel like I've hit a wall with my art lately, at least with the type of art I've been doing. I'm still sketching and trying new things hoping that something is going to enlighten, but the result has been more therapeutic than anything else. For lack of a better word, I'm bored. Disenchanted , even. I'm confident in my actual skill, but I don't really know what to do with it and part of me can't help but think it has something to do with the plethora of free time I have at my disposal. I've considered going to grad school to try and hone my graphic design and illustration skills, but that would be pretty costly at the moment. A financial impossibility. The thing I really miss about art school, aside from the free resources, is being in a creative environment. Seeing what other people are doing, discussing techniques and subjects, critiquing and being critiqued. The wheels of creation just seemed to flow faster in those days and I'm sorry I didn't fully embrace it when I was there or take it too seriously.

Don't take all this the wrong way. I'm not giving up or seeking encouragement or advice. I'm just venting. I'm sure it's only temporary and soon I'll find the spark to light the fire in my artistic steam engine. Hopefully that will happen soon, but for now I'm going to go out and enjoy this beautiful Portland day while it lasts. You never know when you're going to see another one of these babies.

Here's an experimentation of white pencil on black paper. The person is my Grandfather's aunt Sarah, probably taken in the early 20th century. Classy gal, eh?




And here's a gem my cousin unearthed from her last trip to California. I must have been about six or seven when I did it. FYI, Jacob still looks like that in the morning.