Awake worrying about money and the future, as usual. So little of the past year seems to have been spent making art, instead pursuing scraps of money here and there, not at all efficiently and pleasantly, and not very successfully, but successfully enough that I must keep doing it. The practical result of this is more computer work, but like art, this creative strand, though old (and poor in regard to games, I could do far better now), is still a valid part of my contribution to the world.
I don't think the Vincent van Gogh was mad. He was merely treated with the casual disregard that most people are, combined with living in dire circumstances of poverty and dependence. He, like all artists, had no alternative: art or death are the only options. In the unlikely event that such a ragged and antisocial being were offered a paying job, his psyche (and/or his colleagues) couldn't have coped with it for long. By the time of his suicide, the thin fuse of his brother's money and life was running out, and evidently so to both siblings.
We Robot is nearly complete, and I've been working on the lighting for my painting photography. Have wired a two-and-a-half lights and completed most of the woodwork on two of the floor stands:
Two main recording strands of my life are now that: photography of my paintings, and the transcribing and ultimate publication of my music. When that's out of the way I can charge into new work. I'm at the peak of my powers (unless there are more peaks to come!) and am frustrated that I can't use the time for the benefit of art, science, humanity, truth. There must be a way to maximise everything in one. I must keep creating at my best, and archiving at my best, and selling at my best.
