You’re likely wondering what makes an artist an artist. It’s safe to say, it’s many things. Sadly, you can’t separate the art from the artist without inflicting serious bodily harm. Knocking a sculptor’s output off a high ledge is enough to damage more than one’s parquet floor. So leave it to me to discuss the specifics.
Every artist has influences they carry with them at all times, usually deep within their soul, or better yet, if they have medallion status, in a piece of checked luggage. Since we’re on the subject of influences, I might as well delve into my own. Because they aren’t your expected list of great men and women, select individuals who have left a clear mark on civilization.
Like in dumpsters for soggy pieces of used cardboard. It’s something that inspires me to do more than recycle, but to consider the strength of my arguments. Look at what rain does to a milk carton. Sure, it’s fine with a liquid on the inside, but never seems to prepare for what happens on the outside. A lesson for us all. The moon is an obvious influence, especially when its waning humility waxes towards totality. There are other influences you can find in any pantry or fridge.
I’m an individual. I don’t need other individuals muddying that identity with different senses of self. So I naturally look elsewhere for creative support. Which I did for years until I realized the power of following another individual.
Which is why, after years of dumpster diving and moon howling, I’m primarily influenced by influencers because their whole purpose is influencing the impressionable. I need to be told what to think, how to dress, and what to say. It’s easier that way. Imagine having to do this alone. Even influencers have influencers because as this grand pyramid scheme sustains every minute aspect of social media.
I’m fluent and they’re affluent, which by my count, is only a couple letters of difference.
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