I’ve spent my entire career obsessively trying to “learn how to draw” when I should’ve just been drawing. Always thinking “I just need to get a little better… and then I’ll start working on (insert any of a hundred personal projects)”
The fact is that i’ve been good enough since my teens- and would’ve improved so much more rapidly had my study been in the service of any of those projects- and not in the dozens of sketchbooks pilled in my closet.
Lesson: Don’t use “learning” as an excuse to avoid “doing”.
Link (via faitherinhicks)
reblogging this for a certain friend who needs it.
ugh it’s too true how much i need to remember this
[hey, this is like the first more personal post i’ve put on tumblr! it talks about institutions that treat people badly (specifically prisons and schools) and trying to cope with being involved in them with little recourse to change them. it might be kind of a lot (it is for me!) and i’m still aiming to focus on drawing here. i’m hoping to post some exciting (?) artwork soon.]
so during my last year of college i had a job as a ged tutor at a correctional facility (which was sort of like a cross between a prison and a drug rehab program, with a heavy emphasis on prison), and the place was really shitty (of course). i’d work with these guys and get to know and like them, and i’d hear about or witness the staff there treating them really terribly. the most i could do to help was to let the guys know i thought the stuff that was happening sucked and to give them all the tools i could to get out with a ged and like hope that would mean something— i didn’t really have access to the staff to be like “you suck” and the people i did interact with pretty clearly dismissed me as young and kinda weird anyway. i was just really angry about everything and i don’t usually express a lot of anger let alone wish bad things on people, but i started just wishing the staff there would have nightmares, would be tormented by the way they were being.
a couple days later, my bestie was like, “dude i’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately” and i was like “oh shit, i guess my ill will wasn’t very precise…”
in the intervening few years i must have forgotten at least momentarily, because recently i heard about possible forest fires in colorado springs, home of focus on the family (a truly awful evangelical christian producer of media). when i heard, i said “i kinda hope after they evacuate, that the fire reaches just their building and burns up all their stuff.” as soon as i finished the sentence, a firetruck, sirens wailing, pulled into our apartment parking lot. of course… i remembered my bad aim.
and now i have a job that, to perhaps put it cynically, mostly involves adults being shitty to kids and me doing what little i can to mitigate it. i come home some mix of livid and crushed pretty frequently. and i’m trying to hold it together and figure out what to do with all this rage… however coincidental my stories may be in reality, it doesn’t feel like a good idea to try a third time something that backfired twice. but when i don’t have some outward target, i beat up on me. and i just need a way to feel all of it and feel like these adults are in some way accountable, and do some good self care at the same time.
meh, i guess it’s good i know i need it, it’d be nice to figure out what that looked like…
from the wikipedia article on tananarive due, black science fiction/mystery/historical writer:
Due is married to author Steven Barnes, whom she met in 1997 at a university panel on “The African-American Fantastic Imagination: Explorations in Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror”.
it just warms my heart