No fumbling attempts to immerse myself in social media today or other red herrings, there has been no dawdling. Woke up hankering to draw and drawing is what I did. Art is going much easier today than yesterday. From the start I was chomping at the bit and have been plenty productive. Feels good, real good. This here blog thing, this is me taking a short break and . . . , I dunno, taking a break.

I have amassed quite a few works. I’m unsure why I’m hoarding and not sharing. For the longest time I’ve held the philosophy that sharing is an integral part of art. If you do art and don’t share, that’s not art; it’s therapy. Frankly, it’s selfish. The communication of idea or emotion is necessary for art to be art. Remember that, kids.

My conviction stems from the fact that I have befriended a handful of dangerously talented artists over the years and these artists have stopped sharing for whatever reasons declaring “My art is for me.” Which might seem noble, but is just them controlling what they can when it comes to sharing. Easier not to share than to have an idea ignored, misinterpreted, stolen, yeah, that kind of thing.

I, with utmost humble admission, am guilty of being selfish with my art. I’ve wrestled that same demon and continue to have bouts. Needless to say, my sharing motivations have . . . well, they need exercising. If I don’t put the stuff out there, then I am masterbating. Forgive the crassness of the terminology but the connotation of “gross self-pleasuring” is very apt in this sermon. I cannot speak for other artists I can only speak for myself when I say, My labors, especially in the field of art, are more than an exercise in masterbation.

So in the spirit of sharing, here’s a pitcher.

Mice, Mices, Meese, Mouses

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