I display my deepest heart-work to the general public. I’ve done so for over twenty years. Strangers say my paintings are brilliant, or burst into tears, or divulge intimate secrets, or ask what drugs I’m on or how the therapy is going, or tell me what my next piece should be, or insult me, or ignore my work altogether.
I’ve been grabbed & sung to & screamed at & flirted with & assaulted. Someone once pulled a knife on me.
Most recently, a holier-than-thou New Orleanian mis-read my bio, insisted I moved here post-Katrina, and call me a “faux-hemian”. Even my being a working artist, with no trust fund in sight, sitting out here, making a living with my paintings, landed on deaf ears.
Everyone has their own strange agenda, but even in the face of this exhaustive psychological pummeling, I’ve preferred to be brave. I will risk being open, to talk art and life and creativity. Weaklings sit back, mock, snigger, criticize and decry other’s efforts.
Opinions don’t matter. What we DO, does.