Expectations and Fears

This is one of those posts in which I don’t even try to make sense, as it is futile to go ahead and try to make sense of antagonistic feelings like fear and expectations.

Two big, looming things lay ahead of me that pull me out of my comfort zone, the place that I hate for its boring monotony and rhythms and that I love for its calming monotony and rhythms. (Speak about the joys of an adventurous, ambitious Asperger personality. More often than not you appear to be oddly bipolar.)

Anyway, I’ve decided to fly to San Diego this summer to attend ComicCon and with the huge help and slight love taps from Heather I am opening a webstore for shoes and shirts and coasters and paintings and yeah, whatever else can be put paint on and might be liked enough by others to be sold. We open a store would be the better description as so far I only managed to have the store name disappear when I added the temporary logo.

But I need to go back in time a little bit to explain what throws me from one extreme to the other. The other moon at Paley Fest in LA they held a Bones panel. I wasn’t there, but a couple of friends with my shoes were. They had them signed. And I got exciting tweets, reports and photos back. I mean, who would I kid if I said I didn’t love to hear that John Francis Daley, Michaela Conlin and TJ Thyne loved my creations and that Hart Hanson showed them around before he signed and knew exactly, who made them. It’s thrilling to see that some things finally start to pay off and people ask where they could get shoes like those or shirts with my designs. And as much as I love Bones, it is also nice to see the recognition my White Collar inspired work got.

It inspires to dreams of what could be. Daydreams with a reason. So many people told me that I need to believe in myself and need to believe that I will be lucky one day, so that it can really happen. Here I do. I call my webstore New Paintings on Common Objects after the very firstPopArt museumexhibition on American ground curated inPasadenain the early 60s. It was the beginning of an era. And forSan DiegoI booked a house with other Boneheads; we have our tickets and plan to attend panels and the parties. And I hope it will not just be for the fun.

But at the same moment I hear: Don’t have any expectations or you will be disappointed. And this whisper fuels the nagging fear that it all will not lead anywhere anyway. The odds are against me. I am an introvert, fear people, fear to annoy them, can’t sell a wooden plank to a drowning person (I would rather give it to him for free and hand him my dry clothes on top after I rescued him). And in the end, it’s art and as much as people may like to look at things, it will never pay the bills. The book seller in the major chain book store that I visited to by books on art history said it; art doesn’t sell so they axed it from their sales mix. Enter here the romantic image of the starving artist. And I want to sneak away and hide in my shadow again.

Yes, that’s me tonight. Once again full of fears and expectations. What will it be? Himmelhochjauchzend oder zu Tode betruebt?


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