I've been looking at the photos that I took in college (which include some of the photos in my galleries) and realizing that they really are quite good, and wondering why I haven't been able to do a damn thing with my photography since then. I mean, besides the fact that I know next to nothing about shooting with artificial lighting or digital photography--both of which would be key in my actually getting a job as a photographer. (I mean, the recently late Henri Cartier Bresson used nothing but natural light. But then, he was a genius.)

I know that I big part of my lack of momentum s my constant lack of funds. Photography is not a cheap endeavor, even when you do it frugally. Film, processing, paper, chemicals, darkroom space, equipment, mounting and framing...it really adds up.

I did one big solo show my last year in school, in 99. 20 8x10 black and whites, mounted and framed at 15x20. It was a lot of work, and even doing it all myself it was still a pretty penny for supplies (and that was when I still had access to all the UW darkrooms), but they looked really good. Of those 20 pictures, I gave one to my brother for a Christmas present, donated one to a charity auction (it sold for $100) and the rest are still living in and around in my apartment. I've put some of them into other shows--one even made it into the juried student show--and they've been well received, but no real sales. It's a little discouraging.

I've schlepped my slides around town with little success. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. Maybe I lack drive. I just don't know how to get my fire going--to get out there and make people look, make people want to see, make people want to own my images.

Now, I've had some tiny successes lately. Queen of Pentacles was accepted and printed in the 2004 Yahara Journal. That was nice and a bit of an ego boost.

I had another tiny ego boost a few weeks ago when I held my rummage sale. On the second day of the sale it started to rain. As we were racing to haul stuff inside, a woman came along and asked if she could look at stuff while we were moving it in. When she heard that I had already taken my artwork inside, she asked if she could see it (I had two of my 15x20s for sale at a barely break-even price). She like them, but wasn't ready to buy. Then she saw a photo on my wall--an extreme closeup of an electric guitar at an odd angle (in a cheapass Walgreens frame). She really liked it, and I ended up selling it to her for $20. I also gave her my business card.

I think I'm fooling myself when I say I am a graphic designer or a web designer. I'm barely a journeyman in either field. I don't even know if I can say I'm a photographer, since what I know about studio or flash photography could fill a thimble, and that is what people want when they hire a photographer.

I'm an artist, and I think I am very good at making art. I'm just lousy as hell at marketing my art or myself. And, since pretty much every new piece I make just ends up occupying my apartment (unless I make it into a gift for someone) my artmaking has slowed to a crawl. I hardly take any new pictures since I've got boxes and boxes of negatives and prints that are collecting dust (and since I can't afford to get anything processes). I don't buy any new supplies.

I've got a decent studio space in my apartment, but my drive to create is low. The urge is there, and I still get ideas, but I don't act on it as much. I remember my last two years of college. I lived and breathed art. All my classes were art. I was surrounded by other people making art. I got assignments, I got critiques. It didn't matter that art supplies were expensive (well, it mattered but not as much) because I was buying them instead of textbooks and I had student loans (which I will be paying till the day I die, it seems). It didn't matter that everything I made would end up in my apartment, because I had to make it for my classes...it all had a purpose.

I was never much of a drawer. I could and can do it when I have to, but it was never my favorite. I was drawn to photography, to collage, to mixed media, to bright, colorful paintings with abstract stick figures, and to sculpture. And I still am. Yet I hardly do those things anymore. Does that make me a bad artist? A failure? In a way, I think it does.

When I look at how many artists create art and keep creating through poverty and madness and chaos and waiting tables and divorce and day jobs and persecution, and then I look at me. I really am broke and I really don't know how to self promote, but I feel like those are just lame excuses. I mean, if I really was a true artist I'd be doing whatever it took to keep making my art, and to get it out there to people, even if it meant that I didn't always have groceries, right? I mean, there is nothing wrong with oatmeal and bananas. Instead I've gotten this Charlie Brown attitude that no one will ever really want to buy my stuff, and I can't afford to spend any more money on it when I should be getting my teeth fixed.

I need my fire back. I'm pretty sure it died in the first year after college. Right now I'm just stoking the coals. It also wouldn't hurt to win the lottery. If I could get a show together without blowing a hole in my budget or running my credit cards up any higher, I would.

My sister highly recommended that I read The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. I checked it out from the library, but I couldn't get into it. I kept picking it up and then putting it back down. I have a hard time with self-help books. It made me antsy. Eventually I gave up and read a novel instead.

I dunno. I probably need a bit of a kick in the pants to get me back on track, artistically, but I wouldn't mind if there was a carrot to go with that. I can't do this in a vacuum.

And now, one of my favorite photos: