Inspiration

So last week I talked about being inspired, which I would like to follow up on today. As stated, I am inspired by many things. I do, however, want to make a distinction here between inspiration and influence. I am influenced by everything, whether I like it or not. Sometimes I'm influenced directly by things that I read or see. Other times I absorb ideas through pop culture osmosis. That is life. We are influenced by the things around us. I am mostly the product of my surroundings.

But true inspiration is different. Inspiration comes from connecting with something on a personal level in such a way that it completely changes the way you look at the world. At least, for me it does. And I remember specifically what it was that first truly inspired me:




Calvin and Hobbes opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at comics. I'm going to try to refrain from gushing over how great Bill Watterson and his creation is because it's pretty much a universally accepted fact(I could talk for hours about how great, funny, identifiable, etc every single strip is). But I do want to talk about how Watterson, through Calvin and Hobbes, changed my life.

Ill be blunt, I grew up learning to read on Calvin and Hobbes comics. I read it in the paper everyday, forced my mom to buy me all the collected books when they came out, and cut most of the Sunday strips out of the paper and taped them to my bedroom wall. I was in love with Calvin and Hobbes, and for many reasons. It's hilarious, well drawn, and able to jump from innocent simplicity to complex commentary with no effort at all. And it had dinosaurs.

This wasn't just a comic strip about a child and his overactive imagination. Even at the young age that I was, I could see that this comic was vastly different than anything else in the paper. Watterson's layouts were nothing less than stunning, his backgrounds were detailed and imaginative, and the jokes were universally understood.

I was imbued with a strong sense of artistic integrity long before I ever listened to punk rock (or anything else that requires you don't sell out to "the man") without even knowing, all thanks to Calvin and Hobbes. Clearly, this strip was doing something that no other strip could. I won't go into detail over the specifics because you can find them in many places(like the Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book or Wikipedia). The bottom line is, Watterson refused to compromise his artistic vision, and though it seems stubborn and bullheaded, and he received his fare share of criticism for it, I think the fact that he's remembered as one of the greatest cartoonists of all time speaks for itself.

Calvin and Hobbes didn't just inspire me to write, read, and draw(which it did, as a kid I drew Calvin and Hobbes fanfiction), it inspired me to live my life to the fullest, to constantly push myself to improve, and to never follow anyone's agenda but my own.

The big "Why?"

(or, I'm tired of being a Wannabe League Bowler, I wanna be a League Bowler!)



Why? This is the question that has plagued my mind for the past few years.

I suppose that is rather vague. The question, more specifically is: What is it that drives me to pursue artistic outlets rather than, as most people my age are prone to doing, a career? I am at what I consider to be a crucial age of my adult development, an although the big "Why?" question has loomed over me since the beginning of adolescence, it wasn't until this last year that it really started bearing down on me. Last year, I was in the middle of a sixth month unemployment spell, had lost contact with some very close friends, racked up a fair amount of debt, and was having what I now understand to be a Quarter-life Crisis. Frankly, I was a little depressed, but not as depressed as you would think. All this freedom, freedom from work, freedom from responsibility, and (depressingly enough) freedom from a social circle allowed me to do what I've always wanted to do, even if I was afraid to admit it: Write.

With my newfound freedom and paranoia about the world, I immersed myself into the "arts." I had only sparingly touched my guitar in the few years since my high school band had broken up, but now I had the drive and ambition to give it another go. I started a new band with my younger brother, The Sock Rockets, and since the summer of '08, we've been playing shows in "kid bars" to nonexistent crowds in St. Louis. And it's been great fun. I love playing music more than anything in the world.

But music wasn't my only outlet. I also found solace in my second great love: Comics. As a kid, I always fancied that someday I'd draw comics. I've long since realized that I don't have the discipline to draw comics. Perhaps one day I'll buckle down and really hone my cartooning chops, but as of now, said chops are rather embarrassing. So now I focus on writing. Not to suggest that writing is creatively easier, but practically speaking, it's much easier and cost effective to sit and type than it is to to draw. After half a year of writing and planning, I've got a rather large(as in, there is money tied up in it) webcomic project nearly ready to get underway. Hopefully, it will see publication before the year's out.

So now it's been a year since I hit rock bottom(emotional rock bottom, so to speak) and what has changed in that year? Well, I've got [the same] minimum wage job, which does carry with it a larger social network. I'm paying off debts. And I'm writing more. Really, it's not too entirely different from where I was in life before crashing and burning. So what exactly is different? Simply one thing, my attitude. I've never considered myself too good at the school learnin' but I'd like to think I'm smart enough to learn from the lessons life gives me.

And what I've learned is thus: You cannot wait for life to happen, you have to make it happen.

Not entirely new or earth shattering, I know, but some things just need to be learned the hard way. The reason I had such a hard time learning this lesson, was because I never had an honest answer to the big "Why?" question. More to the point, I didn't want to think about it. You see, I've always liked writing scripts and playing guitar, but I never took it seriously, or rather, serious enough. Sure, I thought long and hard about what I wanted to write and play, but I was approaching the arts with a lazy and carefree attitude. I believe my immature attitude to be a defense mechanism against the fear of failure(and believe you me, I have a deep fear of failure). It's really easy to write off the possibility of failure when it's only a hobby or something you do part time. That way, if you become successful, then you were obviously good enough, but if you fail, well then there's all these excuses for why you failed, such as blaming real life from getting in the way. But that's all they are, excuses. Either you want it or you don't. And during my bouts of unemployment and insomnia last year, I had a moment of clarity. I wanted it. I even wrote a song about it(it's called Self Aware and it's on the Sock Rockets myspace page, natch!). I liked the work I was doing(non of it was any good, but it was great practice) and I didn't want to have to sideline it while struggling with a real job. I've since gotten a job again(gotta pay the bills), but I've learned to prioritize my life and approach my art with right attitude.

So, what does this have to do with the big "Why?" Well, I think it's important to come to terms with the big "Why?" before you can begin to approach your work honestly. For some people, it's really, really easy(the simplest answer of course, is because they love it). For me though, it was quite difficult. Growing up throughout high school, playing guitar, writing, and drawing were all recreational activities. Stuff that I got to do AFTER school, work, church, and other obligations. As a result, I kind of conditioned myself to feel pretty guilty about wanting to play all day instead of work like regular people. I actually lamented the fact that I couldn't just go to school, become a doctor, and be happy. I was ashamed of my artistic desires, not even willing to think of myself as an artist. I've since come to terms with those ridiculous notions. I'm happy when I play music, I'm happy when I write. It's as simple as that. As I said earlier, these are things I love. And although that's as much as anyone needs to be an artist, I still don't think it answered my big "Why?" question. No, after much rumination, it became clear to me, why exactly I wanted to be a panhandler(all artists who sell their work are panhandlers in some fashion) instead of a career man. And like my life lesson from earlier, it is neither mind blowing or particularly innovative.

The answer to my big "Why?" question is simply because I'm inspired. I'm inspired by the movies I see, the books I read, and the music I listen to. I'm inspired by the people I meet and the world around me. It's as inexplicable as it is obvious.

So that's why I've started this blog. I intend to write about the creative process, the challenges I face, and any amusing anecdotes I gain along the way. Admittedly, most of this writing is more personally cathartic than informative, but if you're not writing for yourself, then who are you writing for?