EXPOSURE
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I feel like I can never be soft. I want to be seen as human. It makes me want to cry because I feel like I can never be authentic. And maintaining a perfect image of the artist feels exploratory towards me. It makes me want to cry because it lives with the art school-taught premise that “good” art can never be personal. It makes me want to cry because it doesn’t shield me from the art world but teaches me to adapt and move on. It makes me want to cry because it means giving myself up to be seen. It makes me want to cry because I constantly have to recontextualize myself and give myself up to be seen.
EXHAUSTION
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it is destruction. It is more than 24/7. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I have to do everything myself. I have to be responsible for everything all the time. And sometimes I don’t want to know how to fix things besides myself. I Don’t want to be my production firm. I don’t want to manage myself.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I am constantly under pressure. To produce to perform.
Surviving makes me want to cry. My endless search makes for meaning makes me want to cry.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I don’t want to suffer through overstepping my boundaries and pushing my body for a greater cause. Seeing my art as a calling makes me want to cry. I don’t want to sacrifice myself. I do not want to do care work for a world of outsiders.
ECOMONY
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because being financially unstable makes me want to cry. Three days ago, I read: an artist without funding is no artist. I don’t want to be discovered by the art world. I don’t want to capitalize on creating art. Capitalizing on art makes me want to cry.
CLASSWAR
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means fighting against the people who should be your friends and allies. It means not engaging too much. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because whenever I am “succeeding” in this art world I feel like a hypocrite.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means comparing myself to others.
It makes me want to cry because it means withstanding dismissal by other artists. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means constantly defending myself.