Ash Wednesday: Phantom Artist? Why I Insist On Hiding My Creative Talents From My Family Members.7/29/2020 I am not too open about my family, and even me, writing things, right there typing this...ooooof Ash the hell are you doing? I mean very, very few people know about the vagina I fell out of. If I could get away with I was adopted I would, but I look way too much like my dad to pull that card. People are even kinda surprised I have a sibling. I guess, I just scream as an only child to some people. I love being single because then I don’t have to worry about A) people leaving me when reality sets in, and B) I become a codependent people pleasing infant in most monogamous relationships. Thanks, Mom, Dad. I rarely invite someone I am dating to meet my parents, lately the last few relationships, it felt like an obligation, I am really not looking to put myself or anyone else for that matter in that situation again. They never go well. As a kid, I spent A LOT, and I mean a lot of time alone[. A]t first, I solely blamed the Harry Potter novels[.] I remember pre ordering all of them from Goblet of Fire to the end of the series. When they came in the mail[,] I would grab them out of my moms hands, and disappear in my room from anywhere from 2 to 5 days at a time. I wouldn’t come out. I had to finish, and see this book all the way through. More like I needed to check the fuck out for about a week, and dissociate like a mofo. Ya know, being 10 I wasn’t exactly rolling in vacation funds. I did what I could. When I finished all the Harry Potter books, I moved on to a few more series, and then I found Art to be my new flavor of escapism. I escape often these days.
I either have two modes in life: I either bounce around to a bunch of different projects, and eventually get them done, or I stay in something WAY too long. It could be anything… but 99% of the time it's a one[-]sided relationship. I just don’t know when to give up, or leave the party. Now I make sure all my projects, logos, whatever are what I call "quick hit projects” If it takes more than 2 days, it’s probably never gonna get done. I don’t let anyone know what I am doing or working on until it is already done, edited, and published. I am just like an all or nothing kinda gal. So why would I hide my artistic talents from my family? That's an easy one…. We are all in some weird shape or form an "interesting" creative family, my brother makes costumes and shoots videography, my mom did art, and plays the flute almost professionally, and my dad…. Welp… yea he lives like he is in a movie. I am not going to go into real detail about that, it’s just bizarre. I literally have no set direction on how I want to take my art. I never did. There are some days where I hate it, I hate the process, or lack thereof, because I never know what I make until it's done. I have been writing more because it is easier for me, and a little more cleaner than setting up a canvas and paint, although I did just do a quick hitter real quick I’ll link that boy down below. In addition to being an artist, I have taught kids and adults painting, drawing, and ceramic classes. I have been doing this since I took my first drawing class, If I am interested in something I fucking go dick deep into it. I never forget anything, and have a borderline photographic memory. I tend to put myself in a bubble sometimes when I am creating something. You literally wouldn’t understand it unless you have ever been that kid to shut themselves inside your room for hours on end. I love being by myself. I go almost anywhere, and everywhere alone, I go hiking, I run at night alone, and I became bilingual in Russian by myself. I just recently started doing my taxes alone too[;] I am very proud. Suck it, TurboTax. I am not sure if I like learning more, or teaching something. I have been teaching art for a really long time. I really enjoy connecting, and having kids super excited to attend my classes. That whole quote, about those that can[']t do, teach or whatever the fuck it is… yea clearly you had a shitty experience with teachers. I loved all mine, and yea I saw them as weird pseudo academic parental figures. I am still in contact with all my Art college professors. Even got a few jobs through them. It pays to be nice, and make friends. One of my many "quarantine quick hits” I also kinda low key think we are just in a black mirror episode…. And it kinda blows. Ash fucking focus, okay, yea, so, art: I’ll never admit this out in the open, but I am pretty sure my best art was in high school. You can stereotype me all you want, but I bet you would have dated me in high school too. I was the most passionate about art more than anything else. Nothing mattered to me more, I am so surprised I graduated high school, honest to god there were days I didn’t even show up. I missed about a month and half of school before my parents were even notified. I got caught up hanging out with a few art friends at a local community college, we just created all day, It was more up to my speed then sitting through 9 classes a day then going to work until 9pm at night, walking home in the dark than doing it all over again. I just had it. When I went to collage I fucking thrived, I survived critique days, made some bomb friends I still talk to today, and got my art out there and started fucking around with gallery and museum studies. I am not sure why I took a hiatus, post college was a no go. I feel like my life was a series of waves, I would always crash and burn- for as long as I can remember I want to say maybe since 17 or 18 I have always had a multitude of jobs, side gigs, projects, that was just who I was I had so much creative ideas, that I would end up sitting there in a pile of papers getting jack shit done. Talk about frustrating. Art helps me with my depression. I have SADS, and a few other little things, but for the most part but, like, hey, what child of the 90s fueled with nothing but Saturday morning cartoons, and cereal came out without a few screws missing, but still being a part of a nutritious breakfast. If I start to zone out chances are I can hear the X-Men theme song in my head, I can't be the only one that happens to, right? From about November to it is about mid march now, that is when things are usually the worst for me - I still am not sure why, because well global warming has been making my SADS strangely better, but the Corona Virus was kinda a curve ball this year but it’s cool, I am adapting thank you very much. Art has always been there for me, when people get frustrated with my constant mood swings, or my sudden disappearances. (My uncle is a magician, you can blame him.) I firmly believe that the pain, like the kind you inflict on yourself on your first critique day in art class, the kind that tears away at just you slowly over time. When you can confidently tell someone something traumatic about your childhood, and you just say “But it’s all good” after that kind shit. Now I addresses all my insecurities, and flaws yea that dark shit, that is where all that good fucking art comes from, don’t ya know? You have to do a deep dive, props to you if you can handle doing that sober too btw. I am coming up on almost 2 years without any alcohol, I don’t really talk too much about that but apparently it blows everyone's mind when I can be so social and be drinking nothing but Pellegrino. You need to go deep into that feeling well, reach in, and shake it, tell it to get bent, and make something out of it. Literally it has been my saving grace. I am pretty sure most of my family has nor will they ever see any of my art. I have had art shows, I have had pieces in galleries, I just sold a piece for close to 1000 USD AND they will probably never know, and I am kinda okay with them and people not know what I do, what I create, or how I live my life. I just do me, and I am really okay if nobody ever sees it. It is out there in the world, call it a free for all. See ya next Wednesday losers. -Ash Catcher
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Written by Ash Catcher As an artist, and you can take that as an umbrella term, because this year especially I have been working in some more unusual mediums, the term obsession could be considered the understatement of the freakin millennia. Yes, artists no matter what the outlet is obsessed with, well, themselves. I [am actually] not thrilled with the term narcissist, I think it is very important to love yourself unconditionally, and I can finally say after a really long time, and losing a lot of people that I am very happy with myself. I much prefer words like passion rather than obsession. I am passionate about expressing myself, through creative visuals, words, video, food, whatever I feel like. I am a creator, when most people ask me what I do for a living, I always end up struggling to answer them, I simply say I am a creator now. I mostly work on myself, and for myself, and yea[h] there are some things that I harbor on, and have to address, but hey, like I always say you have to suffer a little bit for your art. Otherwise, one, you are a poser, and two, all artists go through shit. So show it off, get it out there, even if nobody reads it, sees it, experiences, it, or tastes it. You put it out there. Most art is stored and undiscovered. Don’t hoard your creative efforts. I believe that Artists can hone their creativity and selective obsessions, (passions) and create a stream of conscious content. After all that is the hardest past for someone who is creative is coming up with an idea. Artists know the feeling well. You get absorbed in your work to the point of obsession. Yes, you might be making great art, but there is a personal, psychological price that you are paying to do it. Most of us deny that cost. We tough it out and put on the brave “everything’s ok and I love what I do” face. What we don’t reveal is the dark side of our obsession. When I started to think about this subject, it occurred to me that entrepreneurs and artists have a lot in common. They are both driven by a goal, the power and magnetism of which few others can truly appreciate. We become slightly manic, in our endeavors. Quite frequently, we put the work above all else, we take risks with our health and finances and we work ourselves into a right old emotional state, to get the art made or the venture to succeed Here’s the thing. You are a creative creature, driven to produce because you’re wired this way. They call it hypomania, in some circles. You’re just crazy enough to pursue obsessions single-mindedly, but not so crazy that you’re clinically manic. You do share many of the symptoms, though. They say that people who are the children of immigrants are predisposed to hypomania. It’s in the genes. There are a high proportion of artists and entrepreneurs that have this slight manic quality to them, undeniably. Being slightly obsessive, and manic is a human condition, you feel things at seemingly higher amplitude than most. You’re happiest when you’re in the flow, but most anxious when you’re frustrated (being prevented from creating or pursuing your goal) or when you’ve failed (the venture folded, or the art was received badly or didn’t get finished at all). You always have to find yourself in that in-between zone between thwarted and defeated[ and ]where you are working slightly too hard, just to feel normal. Characteristically, artists and entrepreneurs that are slightly obsessed and manic are absorbed to the point of exclusion of most other important aspects of life – they’re overworked, often overextended financially, they neglect to take care of their bodies, health and relationships and they are highly critical of their own performance and output. In short, they’re not fun to be around anyway. Partners can find them detached, distracted and downright emotionally distant or even psychologically abusive. They might be thought to be isolated or narcissistic, even selfish. When they’re immersed in their work, they’re cut off from the world and everybody in it. I am guilty of it. That is why 99.834234% of the time I don't text someone back is because I am making something. A consequence of this state of being is that the hypomanic artist or entrepreneur (and after all, many professional artists are also entrepreneurs, it has to be said), is prone to feelings of stress, loneliness, boredom, anxiety, depression and loss of self confidence. They’re vulnerable, but can’t or won’t admit to it, for fear of it affecting their ability to complete the work. Sometimes, the worry caused by the work they have voluntarily undertaken to do can be psychologically debilitating. It can make you physically ill too. You look, to the entire world, like the heroic over-achiever, but inside you’re crumbling. The pay off, if you can live through it, is that you succeed. When you succeed, you enjoy the temporary spoils of the win, but being obsessive, it isn’t long before you throw yourself into your next obsessive project. It’s not something you can help. On the other hand, if you fail, the consequences can be devastating. You’ve made all these sacrifices and tried so hard, exhausted yourself, your finances and your relationships in the process and you’ve finished up with much less than you hoped for. Your confidence ebbs away. It makes it harder to pick yourself up and start again. In fact, you can begin to fear this feeling so much, that it stops you from starting. You just can’t face starting a new venture or new art project, for fear of the takeover of your entire life that comes with it, and the consequences of failure. Failure, if we are honest, is more likely than not. That’s just the way it is. It has been said that it’s a little like post traumatic stress disorder. You’ve been in battle, taken some bad hits and now you just can’t face getting back to the front line. In fact, you can’t help overreacting to all sorts of silly stuff. You’re shell[-]shocked. I, and a multitude of creative pals have had many failed start-up ventures. I abused my body, didn’t get enough sleep, or exercise and cut myself off from those around me when I needed them most. It was horrible. The failures make it hard for me to start new big things. I start a lot of small things, instead and try to see them through to completion. Call it therapy, call it obsession, call it whatever you want. It’s a numbers game and hey something is bound to stick. What I learned was that I was most able to deal with the anxiety when I had a paint brush, or a camera in my hand. It has always been this way for me. I feel at peace when it’s just me and a canvas, when others may be filled with frustration or dread. I am ready to see and literally paint the possibilities. I never ever EVER plan a painting. It is what it is, creating something out of nothing is exhausting. Manifesting something out of thin air, especially when you have no clue what you’re creating until it's all done is practically insane. ![]() I also learned that to survive the obsession, and it's dark consequences, you need to love deliberately. Love yourself, and your loved ones and pay special attention to doing so. Sleep, eat right and relax when you need to. Take time to be who you are, rather than being owned by your obsession, and take time to be with those you love and to do the things you love to do. Finally, be courageous, emotionally honest and open hearted enough to admit to your vulnerability. If a project is taking too long for you to take a break, nobody will know but you. I almost never tell anyone about my personal creative projects until they are already conceptualized, and on the wall. You’ll be surprised at how much you can create when you pace yourself. Is there such a thing as loving your craft too much? Can you lose yourself in your own passion, even if you create something about yourself for yourself for other people…. How deep do you have to go before you go down the rabbit hole and your purple pills deep? Developing creativity, and realizing creative ideas usually take some degree of obsession. But is it on the borderline of a disorder? Is it some sort of pseudo artistic bullshit obsessive compulsive disorder? Is it a weird cocktail of anxiety and repetitive ritualized behaviors? Why the fuck do people even make art anyway? I certainly think there is a darker side of creative obsession. Artists are OBSESSED with detail. Every artist I know has a form of OCD, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and a mixed bag of personality disorders. There is artsy, and then there is borderline insane. Sure it is a creative rainbow sliding kinky Kinsey scale.
Just like with everything in life there are extremes, The Artist is their own biggest fan, and worst critic. Whether we are aware of It or not, balance is out and obsession is in. People now more than ever are expressing their own beliefs, passions, obsession, and views. Let’s just chalk it up to a shitty year for humanity as a collective. So, my artistic friends, if you are engaged in an obsessive pursuit, beware of the dark side of the obsession and make time to maintain your own psychological health and that of those around you. It’s important. This house, the one you should have grown out of, and left years ago is stale.
The people seem nice at first, but ya’ll are fake as fuck. Mask wearing anti socialites. Mommy- Daddy ( issues) playing house money hungry. This music scene is dead, long live the “scene”. Long live the growing debt, of all the money you spent. Broke too many guitar strings. Gone are the boys, now forgotten, this club sandwich, that's been in your section of the fridge since the 7th, has all gone a rye. THROW IT OUT. IT’S TRASH. The mental health issues have all come to light, the distractions are all gone, The beer, and liquor all drunk up. Should have squirreled some away for another day. I bet there are aluminum soda cans littered all over your room. And pizza makes me think of you. I haven’t had pizza in almost a year. I wish I got to watch all the Star Wars films with you before it was too late. But at least we ended it watching Empire. Back to bedroom guitar playing, picking through the past. Window sills were made for rainy days. Would you go back? Would you start fresher? Why do people sleep with fans on in their fucking face. You’re draining. I haven’t seen you in awhile, and I want to keep it that way. Unless you’re coming fucking correct. Is it capable of apologies? I don’t think I could see you so miserable. I know you have fathered a gnome. I bet it has your soulless eyes. The aftermath, after the party. Because as you know it’s always your party, {MINE}. I want this show to end. I am tired, we need to pack up still, load up, and I need to drive your drunk ass home. It’s the same dance, and songs, I am tired of it. The world is quiet here. I can feel you, watching me. Aren't you tired of staring at me through the window, or a screen. I know something you don’t know. It rains a lot now these days, have you been crying lately in your car? I know you aren’t sleeping because I have been awake (end) Sandwich King, I am getting tired of waiting. The service here, it kinda blows. No stars! Who died, and claimed all condiments communal? Communist condiments, make for great substitutes. A lovely mayo manifesto. How is my sub? I bet they taste…. Stale? You look like a sad sandwich boy. Your house is crumbling, the bread soggy. I cut carbs out months ago, I thought you should know. I eat salads now, because I am trying to grow. - Ash Catcher Guys, listen the fuck up. I am so sick of the lack of female presence in the DIY Philly Music Scene. I. Am. Sick. So, I guess it’s a great thing that my badass friend, Megan Negron- Dalton dropped not only her first E.P. but the lady did it all herself, the writing, the recording, the amount of effort, love, pain, and passion that she put into this project has been nothing further than amazing. I am such a proud frickin' friend of hers! Megan’s EP is titled Bruised Peach. We touch upon self discovery, that with great pain comes some great fucking art and that, hey, at least we can always capitalize on our memories even if the past is long gone, dead, and buried back in Brooklyn. Meg’s got some raw talent that the music scene has been preaching for years, but I swear to all that was once a closed hole. If I hear another song about a car crash or glorifying a drug addiction it will be too soon. Megan’s EP offers none of that. There is just her and her guitar, I can’t wait to hear this live, with the slow rise to places opening back up post Co-VEE, this will be something for everyone who claims to DIY or die to get on their Spotify. Check out Megan’s EP Bruised Peach, my personal fav songs are At "War," and "Baby Johnson ( Brooklyn)" Check them all out! Also a nice Artwork lady!
-Ash https://open.spotify.com/artist/4CaTMD9qhTNX6SnjVFps0f?si=_8SlsKkxRoGRD1FwmF_aZA These days, they just don’t feel the same
Everywhere I go I see your name. Forever stupid, forever young, and dumb. All those nights I spent with you, now I am just numb. All Times, Sad Times. I never get too close, feed them more lies. All Times, Sad Times. All Times, Sad Times. I never let them see who I really am Put up a front infront of all my “friends”. Hide behind the secret silence of the past. Because at this rate the future may not last. All Times, Sad Times. I never get too close, feed them more lies. All Times, Sad Times. All Times, Sad Times. I can't get the color of your bedroom walls out of my head. And the very fact, I always hated that you didn’t have a real bed. But these days I sleep just okay, just not as much. Oh fuck it you got me, yea I am craving for your touch. All Times, Sad Times. I never get too close, feed them more lies. All Times, Sad Times. All Times, Sad Times. Summer is almost here, and I can't help but think. How quick you were to ALWAYS judge me, and critique. For being myself, how DARE you judge me. Yea I maybe alone still, but at least I am free. I see your miscarry your happiness. It’s not hard to see. Because I think what hurts you. Also hurts me. All Times, Sad Times. I never get too close, feed them more lies. All Times, Sad Times. All Times, Sad Times. |
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