Monsters, cute cute little monsters

I spent large chunks of time on the weekend drawing little monsters for my stencil art class this week. We were meant to come with 3 images and I think I now have 15-20, and many many more ideas for projects which I haven't done the images for (but a quick trip to the library tonight might avail). Last week was the first class and I left feeling very excited. I like any kind of art class as a focus, as dedicated time for thinking about images and possibilities. I love it but its a guilty kind of pleasure.

In general I have mixed feelings about visual arts - about doing it, spending time on it. There is some dastedly inground protestant work ethic or devoutly utilitarian internal dictator that raises its serge clad form and contributes to my internal dialogue on this topic to suggest that it is a self-indulgant waste of time and that if I had a stronger service mentality I would be spending that creative time doing something useful for us all. Like writing articles, or letters, leafletting out the front of public events, doing more volunteer work, excersising my democratic voice and taking a stand on the many things I care about. And not that I would just do those things, but that more importantly I would be the kind of person who would *want* to spend my spare time doing that rather than drawing spotty monsters with gnashing fangs and getting excited about making t-shirts. Because let's remember that these are not even high-brow, culturally significant technically savvy oils the size of walls but infantile, self-amusing, simple and 'pointless' images.

I wonder whether drawing is some kind of attention seeking ploy, I worry that it contributes to just more 'things' in the world when there are already so many objects and such overconsumption, I hate the idea of an art scene - of any description other than practicioners coming together for the joy of sharing the process, and loathe the ridiculous 5-minuteism of fashion and a profit driven market.

But I like drawing little monsters that actually make me laugh and my notebook is full of sketches of other bigger, more time-consuming projects waiting to be given wings. I have a rusty metal collection, for fucks sake, because I have plans for sculptures which involve beautiful rusty washers and bits of cars found weathered on the road side. I have two giant plastic tubs of art gear stacked in my room. I love hand made things that are made with heart, and love the different voices that come through different people's work. When I took my current full-time desk job, at the start of last year (after working part time and weaving in more art and writing into my days in the year before) I made a deal with myself that I would at least use my increased pay to buy more art books so that I have something I care about to show for the time of working full time (no not a house, no not a car, no not nice clothes, no not homewares or furniture, just art books - and music). I found a way to run a felt-making workshop with most of the office last year, and the first social outing I organised (we take it in turns, meant to do one a month) was an evening visit to the self-portraiture exhibition at the art gallery. I have even been musing on ways I can write more about sustainability and how it intersects with creativity - from maybe a positive psychology or evolutionary biology perspective. I draw in my notebook at work in boring meetings. I'm halfway through a masters in international urban and environmental management but don't really care about it anymore and fantacise about doing an accelerated art therapy course instead. I try to get other people to play with me, so it doesn't feel like such a solo interest - kicked off an 'urban candour' artbook project with 3 friends around last year as a way to make space for a shared visual dialogue. etc. You get the point.

So. Am I just embodying the art-science / left-right hemisphere / organic-inorganic / subconsious-conscious / male-female schism which our culture is so strongly shaped by? (This is partly a philosophical divide but also a practical one - there are after all only so many hours, we work on the Ford factory line model of 'life's work', you are meant to pick just one pursuit, right?). etc. Is my 'sensible & useful' day job just a ruse to cover for the fact that almost all of my interests are juvenile, ephemeral, playful things which I do just for fun?

Am I Ricky Wong????*





* From 'We Can be Heroes' - and Australian mockumentary. This character is a physicist working on solar cell research who decides he wants to act. He is a crap actor. Presumably he was a good researcher.