Slarty Bartfarst and the Artful Dodger
So maybe I’m Slarty from Hitchhiker’s guide. In my head I build coastlines for Norway. This is a drawing I made for my next Print media class which follows several of my ongoing themes…namely that Carteresque turn of Red Riding Hood into a woman who is just as wild and wily as the wolves. She has the wolf there too. The wolf is probably going to go inside her house with her. She’s just come home from the markets in the mountains. Her house goes underground. It’s lovely and cold where she is. But her house is very warm. She’s a bit of a hybrid, maybe not a chimera, but enough of the animal in her is coming out. I had enough of a meltdown today with regards to art and because of family. You see, my artistic inclinations are often perceived as a kind of ‘illness’, a strange affliction that I happen to have and won’t get rid of. My family want me to go on medication. It’s the usual drama. I possess all the qualities of a dictator with none of the hats or whips, or the behaviour of a hysteric (histrionic is the term used to describe me by particular family members) but with none of those fabulous cotton gowns and baths full of ice.
If I am waiting for the family to see my art it will be a long wait. My mother can barely read the entirety of my manuscript without a display of being unable to read anymore. Poetry that was twice highly commended for the Shapcott, but not so much liked by the fam. But that’s often what happens with artists. Not always. I have spent a long time having to explain with so many reasons why I do art, why I write, why I sing. But it is never enough. I just keep creating because it is the most natural job in the world to me. To make art. I don’t think about it an awful lot. I just tend to let my hands take me away and let my imagination go wherever it wants. It’s always been like that. I wonder how many hysterics were artists? I wonder how many women of passion were treated as hysterics.