The Drag of Life

One of my hopes, in moving from Mississippi to Minneapolis, was that there would be a larger (or existant...even) artistic community that I could be part of and do fun shit with, etc... The artistic community in Biloxi, aside from the graphic artists, consisted on painters, illustrators and photographers who all depicted scenes of the Gulf. Shrimp boats, seagulls, beach-front mansions, old barq's rootbeer signs...

Well, that hope became a reality. Within months of living in Elk River, a far northwestern suburb of Minneapolis, I had aligned myself with a collective of poster artists, signed on to share a studio space with three other artists, and befriended a great guy that was all hooked up with the local cartoonist/comic book regime. I was screenprinting out my ass and drawing comics. All the things I wished I could have done in Mississippi...but never had the drive or supportive community (ie: friends).

Anyway, well this is all well and good, now a year later I can barely find the time to sit and relax for a night. Well that might be hard to believe seeing as how I think I've gained weight since we moved here, it's true. I'm bombarded with poster gigs, big time freelance jobs, comic opportunities, etc...

I can't keep up with the demand of this stuff, and at times just want to stop it all, sit on the couch and watch a stack of DVDs.

But then I need to remind myself: I'm doing things I love. I'm doing SOMETHING. Something constructive. And if no money or recognition ever comes from any of it...at least I did it, and didn't waste my life always WANTING to do something I liked.

Now I should go to bed.