Art. That dirty little 3 letter word. What’s it about. I’m sure its different for everyone. Perhaps I will talk about what it is to me.
Living in a pile of paintings. A tangled mess I do sincerely confess. Stumbling over trash and rotting cheese, my brain exuding endless streams of undigested thought debris. No continuity, just that weird thing called creativity.
I somehow eek out a living selling my thoughts painted on canvases, boards and sometimes scribbled on dirty old socks. A relation to nothing, a mathematical equation of something. Each day is like a smashed glass against my face.
Wondering how I will pay rent, feeling like a loser the older I get.
Years spent in debt. Months spent without rent. Hours spent feeling like nothing more than a pile of wet cement. I really don’t know what I am doing any more, not that I guess I ever did. Unfortunately everything revolves around this thing called money. Being broke and broken is good if you enjoy feeling alone.
Alone on a stone.
I find the best attitude to have is that nothing will work, that way when it doesn’t, there is no disappointment. Continually checking my emails like some speed freak looking for God in the bottom of a shoe.
Broken heart glue.
Besides all the horrendous torture of trying to make a living as an artist there are some good things. However I won’t bore you with those.
Madness and boils.
Canker sores and daily toils.
I paint when I am broken.
I paint when I am fixed.
I paint when i am drunk,
and I paint when I am pissed.
A perpetual thinking machine.
A song written by a man with no eyes, ears, mouth or any hands.
Waking up in a cold sweat.
Going to bed
just to forget.
I am cursed and blessed with this head full of mess. Perhaps its some weird test.
I was verbally attacked awhile back. Because I had no answer to what my art is about. My apologies. Heres a few words I use.
I don’t care.
I care so much that I don’t care at all.
I don’t care what a painting is about or what it’s not, I dont care if it’s painted with pubic hairs and smothered in polar bear snot.
I don’t care if a painting pleads and begs,
I dont care if it has a purple dink and 10 hairy legs.
If I like it, then I like it, if i don’t then I don’t.
“You can’t say you don’t care!” ” You have a responsibility as an artist to care!” Do eye? I don’t recall signing that document. In the grand scam of a plan of things, most of nothing and everything will ever be remembered. Do what you like. Paint a purple pig riding a 10-speed bike. Draw a satanic nun making love to the sun. Illustrate a flower and a frog on their first date.
I’m so sweet i give myself cavities.
I’m so smart i don’t know where to stop and where to start.
All Images Are © Lyle Schultz
Lyle Schultz Artist Bio