Half Finished.

Yesterday afternoon I started a painting for the wedding of my friend's Russ and Stacey. I finished it this morning at eight am. I've never finished a painting that quickly before and am annoyed that I did, mostly because it's complete shit. Well, the right side of it, is complete shit.

Painting, unlike scoring glass, is a very relaxing and rewarding hobby. I can see why water colour courses are such a popular interest amoungst the masses, even if it's - ewe, watercolour. I'm not very good at painting, but I'm not very good at art either. Well. I may be, but if I am, it's of no understanding of my own. Da Vinci said that, "patience is divinity" and if that is true, than I am in the art sense, already a genius. Everything else however, not so much.

People ask me how I could have gone to school for Graphic Design and not consider myself an artist. The answer is basic and simple: I don't believe in art. The word art in itself is abstracted. It mingles vaguely on the same echelons as love and hate; words with no definitions, but own unexplainable meanings.
I think art is a measure of one's ability. And one's ability cannot be measured by one's self, it must be measured by people in the know. Being a man confined to a basement, writing poems that reflect the sweet and tender motions of butterflies floating on the cosmic winds of the universe does not constitute anything more than a fool. Being a man that chooses to educate and understand the importance of words, in my opinion, is more of a poet than anyone who writes sentimental drivel to unobtainable romances.

The problem with art seems to be that everyone is an artist. It seems like such a pretentious and ridiculous word now because honestly, there really isn't any such thing left. Art got bad when it somehow got mixed with illustration. Soon after, it became graphic design and then, became a source of income for mediocre fools with bad design fundamentals with the talent of my left toe.
I say, give me a reason to paint and I will paint. Creation, or art needs more of a purpose other than our own sefish desires to exist. Art should be a reflection of a time, a historical record, a photograph when there were no cameras or a story to be told to generations after. Art now, is nothing more than abstracted bullshit, thrown onto a canvas by some twat adorned in black with a superiority complex.
But I suppose I'm wrong. If art is a reflection of a time, then we have ultimately lived up to it's purpose by being selfish and egocentric fools. It seems that North American culture has consumed everything.

I doubt I'll give the painting as a present. Even though the colour choice is stunning, the execution is poor. I decided a long time ago that I will never consume myself by an activity that I am only mediocre at.

I'm either a genius, or I'm nothing.