The Obsessed Artist

People often say that fear is the world’s best motivator. Specifically, the fear of failure.

Even when writing this I am constantly wrestling with myself not the delete those last fifteen words, to actually finish the sentence, to actually finish a story, to take an attempt at the life that I one day hope will materialise. Its one of those things that makes me believe in God to be honest, some miracle someday. Unknown, unexpected but unchangeable. That one miracle event will change my life and make it everything I ever wanted it to be. I am not a writer.

Its funny to think that the fear of failure is not what drives this passion but rather what prevents it. Its pretentious of me to say that my passion is different to other in the way of how intricate their passion is to their lives. Let me put this way, if I fail at being who I am then what do I become.

Bury your gays. A trope witnessed, felt, and internalised. Pain and anger, that is what drives my passion. I understand if its hard for people to comprehend what it means to watch yourself die or disappear over and over again. But the simplest way to put it is imagining your last moment of weakness or vulnerability and it being taken advantage of constantly. I am not an activist.

I have these films; (in my head) these shows where we are reminded of what it means to be human. Emotions, motives, and morals are all key themes. Themes I feel have been missing when addressing at certain type of character. If you want to kill a gay character, make them human first. Make them have goals, flaws, falters, establish them as people first. I am not defending the trend of killing gay characters but rather calling out the unjustified ways they have died or disappeared.

There is this phenomenon I continue to witness when I realise this trope is about to commence. It is a form of hysteria, the feeling of a practical joke. Its simply put yes but that the reaction when individuals get shot in the stomach and die ten minutes later however someone shot in heart goes on to live for another season. Or when an engaged couple suddenly break up over one not wanting children. Or the entirety of The Half of it, which was barely a queer film. You can guess the common denominator. Part of me knows its not intentionally and then majority of me feels patronised.

I make it sound like I could do better, and I have no proof but when this is the standard, we have then why should I be afraid to chase this passion of mine. But that is just it. My trust in the industry has been broken so some primitive, irrational, and passionate part of me believes if not me then who else. These stories I have they are ones that reflect themes of Absurdist theatre, concepts that have already been used and praised but tailored and reworked to be my own. You will not believe the sentences I have heard from the mouths of distinguished director’s mouths. Words I believe were my own. I have every reason to believe in a chance that I will succeed.

But then comes the shear fear of failure.

And the pain that will come with it.

This entire time I’ve sound pretentious and filled to the brim with teen angst. It has affected me negatively I will admit, but I would doubt I would trade it now. One evident reason is that I know now what not to do. But then begs the question, what will it take to justify the death of queer character. Here enters an artist greatest power.

Theft.

The modernist believe that every idea or creation had already been made and everything that followed was a variation of what had come before. Which is in part true and reinforced by the belief that there are only seven types of stories in their purest form. The recipe is so simple and yet so many get it wrong over and over again. Queer characters should not be ridiculously protected or praised. We are people first. All that is needed is complexity as an individual and evidence as a queer person. Have I made it obvious that my stories do not focus on the character just being gay? Not that there is anything wrong with that type of film. It is very clear that the queer dynamic has not at all been addressed or even skimmed.

I am a painter.

Abstract. A fan of the modernist era, especially Marcel Duchamp and Francis Bacon, both highlighting that abstraction is the best format to communicate the human experience. Painting is easy for me. My process allows me to be quick, impatient, giving into the materials to make the piece more powerful. I am allowed to practice like this, to lack a structured guideline as so may artists before me have. Creating like this allows to see the world as it is, imperfect and without a guide. As existential as it is that is the base line for Absurdism. The world is itself is irrational and we (humans) attempt to rationalise it.

Like I said I am not a writer. I am not built to be. My beliefs in how creative pieces should be made do not allow me to. Words are not expressive enough for what I want my films to be. Perhaps they are merely a guide, a script anything tangible that establishes a world I want to create. Worlds I believe people like me have wanted and needed. My passion is who am I and what I live as.

Reading this you probably think I’m obsessed with myself.