"Why don't you just, like, make things?" OR "Escapism, and it's relation to the modern online artist."
The title of artist referring to people who, on their own or with a limited/personal team, produce artwork ranging from animation to film to video games.
There is nothing more celebrated and revered in the social media landscape then a creator of "content". Whether it be art or entertainment, blithe or cautious, insidious or exemplary, there is no doubt that pedestals are abound in this environment. Chance is king and the algorithms are hardened gamblers with no House to kick them out, who've sunk their life savings into NORTEL stock; it is simply a fact of life that you have almost no power in how you present your work. Those who win that bet get a modest wage for their efforts and the ire of undesirables.
Whether this perception is true or false is no real matter of argument, it is simply how so many artists approach the landscape even as they try to convince themselves otherwise. That they could play the game, that if they just changed their attitude and networked or made their peace with the cream of the crop, maybe they could make it out of the rat race and onto the treadmill. If they simply worked harder or did more research, if they just tried this one little thing everyone around them seems to be ignoring, maybe they could at least make it on par with the rest of their peers they see. They could be as great as them, or smarter, or make more money or be more popular. So that in some way, their dedication and slavery to this ideal would be met with reward.
To many of these creators, this is escapism. This is the culmination of their suffering. A monetary and egotistical blank cheque to use as they please as an escape from the world they inhabit. So many people lose themselves to their jobs; this isn't some revolutionary idea either, don't get it twisted. It's simply the sheer amount of self-importance and discourse around this specific avenue. Constant unwavering criticism for even minor changes, or rabid defensive discourse slamming the other side. An ego booster and downer at the same time. Finally, they made it to the other side, and finally, they can try to get rungs on a ladder they used to dream to be on.
The main reason I'm writing about this in the first place is because of my own failures within this online space. Too many times have I sat in silence writing my "masterpiece", trying to think of something "good enough" that could rival my peers. I have tried almost every artistic avenue one would consider in my position: Art, 3d modeling, animation, being a game developer, a writer, a music producer, making commentary videos on Youtube, even trying to run a social media page at some point. But almost none of these saw the light of day. Not for any meaningful stretch of time, anyway. They were simply, as many would put it, severely under baked and overly ambitious projects.
Even when I scaled down trying to curb my perfectionism all that did was make me realize I am profoundly lazy when I'm not chasing an ideal. Truly, I couldn't even call myself a Jack of all trades, because at least then I could put my mind to action even with resistance; but at the level I was at and perhaps still am that really goes nowhere. It's hard to convince yourself something is worth pursuing when people you love give you reasons to not care, or take the easy way out and just work a regular job without worrying about art or chasing the next creator hurdle to overcome. Perhaps I am simply not built to dedicate my life to art like that in this environment, and yet I still think about it constantly.
A disease I can't cure. Something I have to work on and develop. Things I need to try. Itches that can't be scratched. The ultimate escape from a drab life, if only I had the time. If only I had the passion and didn't procrastinate and didn't need all that dopamine. If only I could just "make the thing" and do it for a long, long time, until I got good enough. Why wouldn't I be able to reach that ladder that's just out of reach? Even with everything in my body, everything in my life, and all of my terrible habits hindering me, convincing me that there is no point to trying. Why do I feel this aching feeling, this burning desire to escape from all of it, if I was never meant to, if I was bad at it? Why do I want to beat the House at it's own game when all I have is a couple of dimes in my back pocket?
That winner's high, knowing I beat the odds and made something good enough to do that, provided something of enough value that I could scrounge something of a personal fortune, keeps me up at night. That door to heaven isn't real, and I know. For some it is, but likely only looks like that on the outside. In reality, that escape is more so the equivalent of jumping from poverty to lower middle class. But in ego? In self-satisfaction at a job well done? Knowing something you made truly affected people and has proven that in material value? That is far more valuable. I have yet to even achieve that, and I cannot stop myself from considering it over and over in my head, in times of weakness. When nothing else in my life is working out, I keep thinking that if I could just bet on black, everything would be okay. If I got green, I'd never need to worry about all of the misery around me. I could accomplish so much for myself If I just got that Blackjack.
I have to try again. I have to drag that passion out and force it to work, because if I don't I feel truly out of place with myself and what I want. Emptiness consumes the corners of my consciousness every week I do nothing. And, yet, it's so easy to just disappear into that void. Perhaps one day, I'll find the proper balance, the proper "schedule" I need to do both. Accomplish enough, "rest" enough, live enough. I hope that compromise will come soon, and I will work toward it. There is nothing else to be done.
"Number go up."
This is a rant that I am not particularly proud of. Don't take it too seriously, I did no research and wrote it in an afternoon during a bout of frustration. If you would like to yell at me for having an extremely unhealthy view of art and media in the modern age, please sign my guestbook: pseudanthro.atabook.org
Thank you for your time.