Can You See The Real Me?

I love my wife. Holy crap, do I love her.

Today at lunch she helped me feel okay about exploring my insecurities as an artist. I've never totally gotten it. Since I was in art classes from the age of 6 people have complimented my work. I kept feeling like it was merely skill, a learned talent. I've basically gotten adept at copying what I see. I feel somewhat like a glorified copier. Nothing special.

So I've never really gotten why people respond the way they do to my art. I know I'm good at it, but what I'm good at isn't quite clear to me. That's why I am so bad at talking about the art of my art, about where it comes from, what I'm trying to say. I feel like a guy with a clever idea who's good at executing.

I've always left what people get from it up to them, like I'm almost not involved. This isn't a conscious choice. It's how I am. It's why I've gotten so excited about the mindshift from self-promotion to promoting my art. What it can mean for people is what I'm interested in. Me, not so much.

Throughout my life, for whatever reason, I've been a perfectionist, holding myself to a standard I'm sure is higher than other people's for me. While I'm painting is the time my brain is the quietest, leaving me alone. My self-imposed expectations dissipate and my much-practiced hand-eye coordination takes over. It's why I paint.

Is that what is coming through in the pieces? What is?

You won't hurt my feelings with any answer because I don't know how I feel about it in the first place. No expectations or judgements to fail in comparison. So please let me know.

Peace.

Roger Daltrey 01/23/09