• This is my apology.

    This is my apology.

Hello,

 

I’m writing this as an apology. Not for something I did, but something I haven’t done. I’ve been rather terrible at keeping everyone updated on the work that I do. Whether it be through the monstrosity that is social networking, or in my day to day life with friends and family. I’ve secluded myself into working in secret and behind closed doors, which was the whole reason I took my work into a live audience in the first place, to escape that. With new ideas brewing for attempts to push the boundaries on my mental and physical capabilities, I’ve realized I have not been in touch enough with society for anyone to actually care.

 

I became of social artist by accident. A very happy accident. It allowed me to pull something that was once known as a solitary act into a conversation starter, an interactive experience, a performance. Painting for shows and musical acts has led me to meet some of the most amazing people in my life, and exposed me to a world I don’t think I would have gotten involved with on my own free will. Much to my surprise, my art has been embraced, praised, and encouraged amongst varying social entities. Not on a mass appeal, but in a way that matters, intimately, face to face. New friends thanking me for the work that I do, and old friends standing by me. 

 

I create things that people don’t need, and that has led to a powerful guilt complex every time I take the effort to make a new piece. What I create is commodities, and is not necessary for survival. I know my thoughts have gone against the grain in that area, even offending people at times. What changes everything is when I’m able to meet new people, and they tell me the ways my art has impacted them. Some of them have been seeing my work since I first started in bars in Richmond, and other people are just now getting to know my style on opposite sides of the country, and hopefully beyond that. It’s a profound experience when someone approaches me with trust and compassion as if we’re old friends, even though we are just meeting for the first time. They are able to spill their thoughts and concerns on me, telling me what the images I’ve made mean to them. 

 

So that’s why I write this in the form of an apology. I started all of this to be your friend, and I’ve shrunk away over time. Contrary to popular belief, I make my art for you, not me. It may be my ideas, my paint, but I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have your support to keep my brush to the canvas and my mind open to everything you have to say. I’m sorry, to everyone that has hugged me, high-fived me, fed me, housed me, payed my bills, and made it all feel worth while. I’ve taken advantage of that, and I’m going to try harder than ever to make sure my art makes it into your line of sight, whether you like it or not. Please, tell your friends, enemies, families and pets. Tell them what you really think, tell them it sucks, tell them it’s the best thing since Hannah Montana went off the air, I don’t care, be honest, just tell them. Tell them I’m friendly, tell them I’m a prick, whatever works for you. Don’t forget to tell me what you think, too. Whether it’s in the middle of a paint stroke, or in an e-mail. I don’t make all this to flaunt it, I do it get see and hear what you have to say. 

 

I promise I care.

 

Goatfaced