I have a lot of arty things that are on my bucketlist. I want to share.
- My longest non-writing, art lust is to make some kind of visual art. My old digital camera broke so I haven’t been taking a lot of photos. And realized the other day how much I miss it. I also strangely miss doing collages. I also still have this self portrait project in my head.
- I want to write a proper film script. It is on my list of things I want to study next.
- I daydream about doing some kind of performance art.
- I want to make tiny artful experimental films.
I’ve been thinking a lot about these things lately and I realize that often I just don’t really know where or how to start. Or if I go deeper I feel like I don’t have a right to want to do these things because I don’t know how to do them.
What I find curious about my emotional backing away from these other artistic endeavors is that once upon a time I felt the same way about a lot of the writing I do now.
Before I started non fiction, I told myself and felt that I was just a blogger. I blogged about being fat and sex and fashion and make up and I read a TON of personal essays. I wanted desperately to write them, but did not believe I had any right to do so. Who the fuck am I?
And remix that about me writing and/or publishing poetry. Or learning to write some stuff relating to literature.
And how it relates to me writing SCLAB.
Now that I’m in an emotional place to look at these feelings I realize what they are. I internalized a lot of bullshit. I internalized a lot of what I learned in school about who and what marginalized people can be.
On one hand, I’m really glad I’ve made that connection in terms of my own creative freedom on a personal level. On the other hand, I’m so angry that I’ve had to take so much time and energy to work it out.
So now, I’m at the part where I’m figuring it out a thing at a time. I’m making a little visual art. Not photographs right now, but I’ll get a new camera eventually.
And I keep telling myself, god damn it you DO HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT TO MAKE ANY KIND OF ART YOU WANNA.
I can keep yelling at myself about it, and I can start doing some of these things I’m interested in. But it’s just so goddamn hard to unlearn shit.
I still feel this way about how I do genre fiction. I still feel this way about my poetry to a degree.
Consider this another entry in my Be That Shit file.
I can do this shit. You can do this shit.
We’re awesome we can do whatever the fuck we wanna do.
Okay that’s all for now.