I signed up to Tinder.
We’ve all seen the articles online, those users sending pictures of their genitals without asking if anyone wants to see that. People expecting sex in exchange for a drink, dinner. The name calling and entitlement that this generation wears so well, banded about in textual messages. I thought that this type of behaviour, the ones recorded in articles written eloquently by women and men across the world, would provide some entertainment on those evenings when I felt slightly lonely.
That didn’t happen. That’s not to say I’ve met ‘the one’ or even anyone remotely worth mentioning. What I have had though, is a nice surprise. I’ve had those conversations that you have when you first talk to someone new, we discuss music, books, art. I have my mind expanded and it’s pretty super. I’ve reconnected with people I knew over ten years ago, we reminisce about the old (un)scene we used to be part of. I’ve had the chance to say to others, who remember me from way back when that I am not that person anymore. There is a hint of pride in that, that I’m telling myself is ok to have. I’m telling myself these days that who I am and who I was are so different but they are the same and it’s ok to let little bits of who I was in my life at times, she was fun and she was liked.
In other news I discovered the easiest way for me to fill a sketchbook with work I am proud of is to first take out every single page and work on them individually. I have amassed a portfolio of monoprints that I am proud of and I am happy with. I have very little idea what to do with them now, but at times I sit and look through them and I congratulate myself. I metaphorically pat myself on the back and tell myself I can do it when I put my mind to it.
I read Annie’s words on putting herself out there and think about if I can be brave enough to tentatively put myself out there too.
I start work on another project, again for me. I have words inside me that need to come out and I don’t know how else to do it. I am unimpressed with the beginnings but know that in time I will improve and there will be a sense satisfaction. I know that in the beginning it’s always hard. I know that whenever doing something creative we are our own worse enemies, judgement is difficult and judging my own work is hard enough with bad days and black clouds.
As always my inspirations are those artists that marry text and imagery beautifully, that speak to the soul and whisper the stories we don’t tell. I love stories, but we all knew that anyway. I used to have so many ideas for artworks, one that involved screen-shotting and exhibiting the facebook profiles of every man or woman I’d ever loved. The unrequited, the relationships, the romances. I thought about painting those profiles. I thought about standing there and reflecting images of those I’ve cared for in the lenses of my glasses, a video that says I still remember how you made me feel.
After reading Rae’s words on love I thought about my relationship with love, I thought about my relationships. I am secure in the idea that maybe I will never settle down with anyone. I’m not saying I’m not deserving of a love that lasts forever, and I’m not saying there isn’t anyone brave enough to take me on for a long stretch of time. There well may be, and if that opportunity ever arrises and I feel the same I will take it with both hands and enjoy it, but if that never happens then that too is ok.
It’s the flourishes of feeling and a love for falling in love that keep me alive. It’s that moment of wanting that enthuses me and my art. It’s the expectation that produces sound bites that are perfect and terrible all in one. It’s heartbreak that produces some of my best work. It’s experiencing the rise and fall that calls me to keep breathing.
“We’re having the time of our lives”