When am I considered an artist? I look at the great works of yesteryear and cannot but feel I pale in comparison.
I cannot but feel I do not stack up. How much do I have to sell? How much notoriety do I need? Should I fall towards infamy? The answers escape me. All I do know is when I am in the thicket of creation I feel invincible. It is as if the world lifts off my shoulders. I am almost superhuman. Grant it, I cannot lift heavy objects, or jump over buildings. I can, however, escape my insecurities and push myself with pen and ink.
Is that my super strength? Is this when I can consider myself an artist? When all the chips are down, that’s all I have in my corner, my mind’s eye.
A vision that is far past 20/20.