Currently perched inside my toaster, as I let the smell of mindful expansion permeate my nose and burn my eyes, I have a front row seat at watching the destruction of a society, strangling itself. Lucky I don't always have to be down in the middle of that mess. You may say, Oh well this is just vulgar hateful ridiculousness. You may say it’s insight brought on by duress. You may just say it’s just worthless nonsense or gibberish. I may not disagree with you. However, in a time such as this, the one who sits back and witnesses the destruction has just as much right to as the ones who fight. And since entertainment values overtook moral values back in the day, then to you I say fuck off, it’s my monolog. I’m not sharing it with you, I’m delivering it alone. This is my stage. If you would be so kind to exit stage right, I would be appreciative.
From way up here, daily human activities look like a bad video game. Or worse, bad realities TV show. This vantage point must be why the CEO’s and executives look at us like we are so small. They live up in these insanely over priced compounds. Up above in the hills. They wake up in the morning naked, looking over the whole valley like a Monopoly game board. Calculating their next move. When I walk by their kind in a grocery store, they look right past me. It’s as if I were a ghost. During the day, I walk among them. I’m in their world. I work there. I breath there. I lunch there. It’s may be the closest I get to being one of them.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve truly ever been only one thing. Perhaps I should say that I’ve ever only been one thing…truly. I am an artist. Maybe not your conventional text book paint and draw artist, but an artist nonetheless. This is the one solid statement I can make about who I am. At a very young age, say five years old, I learned something about myself. I learned that I was different somehow. I was drawn to a world that wasn’t normal. I wasn’t normal. Something inside of me said that I had an ability that was unique. I wasn’t like the rest. Although I couldn’t fully understand what it meant, I trusted it. When I thought about it, even at five years old, I felt pure, confident, clear and proud of my gift.
Here is a little perspective. Through much persistence and resistance, I am 31 years old. I’ve been working on a college degree for 2 years. I’ve been unemployed for months, and I’ve been employed for three times as long. I’ve been in love with the strongest people I’ve ever known, and destroyed by the weakest. I’ve laughed a lot and cried just as much. I’ve put myself in positions of vulnerability as well as set myself so far apart that I’m barely a speck on the horizon. All are great accomplishments I’m proud of. I’ve worked extremely hard to fail and twice as hard succeed in those areas of my life. Through it all I have been an artist for nearly 25 years
Each day you work to achieve the best and highest levels you can reach. Pushing yourself to your limits, serving the great ability you’ve been given. It’s being in the best fraternity ever, where all the smartest, most talented cool kids choose to produce what the rest of the world will like and consume. Its a mutual respect and appreciation of all things creative that’s not exclusive to painting, writing, music, or sculpture. Being an artist is unlike anything else one can be.
Being an artist is the ability to create. To create anything. Having unlimited access to drugs like inspiration and creativity. It’s being a master of the machine called imagination. Being able to dream. Being able to see outside what others can not. Being an artist is freedom. It allows me the opportunity to be a producer rather than just a consumer. I move this world. I will create this world.
Who am I you ask?
I am Paul Beard and I will change this world...
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