Chapter One

by Bear Elle


I wasn’t sure what to write about. I have spent so much time thinking about what to write about that I just write about nothing. So here goes nothing…

Whatever you call what I’m trying to do with my life, there is no guide book. Sometimes I envy people with more straight forward passions. Sure, going to medical school is expensive and hard, but the path is more or less straight forward. Whenever I look for guidance, I’m met with doubt, confusion, or answers that don’t actually address anything I actually said. It can be very frustrating.

Everything I do both in my art and my life is like a giant puzzle of weird nonsense. Admittedly, my visual composition skills are much more honed and on point than my life composition skills. Being my own boss in a business I completely made up and am entirely responsible for is unique in the sense that there’s no one to tell me what to do, at all. No regular version to give me the basics, I’m just sort of floating by trying a variety of ideas and seeing what sticks. That’s literally how I’ve come this far. Tenacity, a stubborn soul and just trying shit. 

Google has been my friend. One of the many reasons I could never have managed as much as I have without the internet. Since everything is sort of improv, I research regular art careers and a wide variety of other subjects for ideas and information. One of those life puzzles, they always seem to be missing pieces.

I have no idea if I’m even doing this right. How could I? 

Then again, does anyone? 

But I can’t do anything else. This is my path, whatever that may entail along the way. 

So what is it that I do anyway? Just paint pretty pictures? Sure, that’s part of it. It’s all fine tuning. Keeping my website up to date, writing better copy, researching new ways to market, talking to all my people, finding new ways to expand, keep things new and fresh, it’s an ongoing process of everchanging parts. 

Being an artist by nature is sometimes hard to define. Even under the umbrella of a fine artist, I’m still not so easily defined. One of my constant difficulties is that I don’t really fit in just any box. Sure, for now the majority of my work is acrylic on canvas, but that is only scratching the surface. It’s a small part of something bigger. 

It was only a year ago that I accepted this was who I was and what I was meant to do. Last year, I had a few conversations with a dear twitter friend and I’m still trying to remember if I let him help me decide because he was saying what I wanted to hear, or if I had already decided and would still be where I am today without those talks. Either way, I’m grateful to him. 

A lot of the people who encourage me seem to do so out of a deeper regret for not following their own passions. My biggest regret in life would be if I didn’t give this everything I have. For all of those who never got the chance, I don’t want to disappoint them. It’s the most important thing. 

Hopefully in future, my writing will be a little more fluid and my thoughts won’t be quite so all over the place. I think it’s more important to get into the habit of writing the blog than it is to make it perfect. I assume like anything else it will smooth out with practice. I used to really enjoy writing years and years ago, but then I just quit. It’s taken a lot to pick it back up again. It’s hard to not feel like you’re just rambling. I do love typing though. I’m a really good typist, so it’s really natural for me to write on a computer. Something I rarely do anymore, well until now, hopefully.

So I’m going to keep doing this until someone begs me to stop.

with love,