04/08/2019
I was asked the other day "Why you doing this, you just a Nice Guy, or something?"
Man, I wish.
No, friends-- this is a Tale of Redemption, and not the Glass Bottle type (although, I must admit that the expression "No Deposit, No Return" does have a definitively Capitalistic ring to it; their version of "Know Justice, Know Peace.")
Am I wandering?
You betcha': that's a Part of The Price: in exchange for free intel, you must suffer my TL:DR'isms.
Sorry 'bout that!
Anyway, there are a number of reasons why I am willing to impart a lot of "free" information and -- work-- to my Community. Part of it has to do with establishing a reputation. Another part has to do with making it perfectly clear that when I *do* offer to sell you something, you're getting a fair deal.
I might not be a Nice Guy, but I am a Fair Guy.
I also have a lot of experience, and I want to share it. I've seen what happens to human beings when they devise secrets, then carry those secrets to the grave, and I will tell you...
Tremendous waste of energy. Gargantuan. Like, as in-- ZOMG, REALLY?!?! Why would you do that to yourself?
When I say that my story is one of redemption, it goes like this...
Once upon a time, I lived in Fullerton, CA. I was an aspiring artist, and so therefore-- I worked at a National Coffee Chain, was constantly broke, and walked my happy ass to work every day.
Sometimes, this had existential benefits. Ever seen a feral cat lap rainwater from an upturned leaf? Magnificent vignettes of life abound when you are a pedestrian, and it *definitely* sharpens your Jedi skills, too-- you stare at that dude until he sees you, and you don't get killed by an automobile.( I am convinced that, if you are evil, you can develop this skill to the length of choking somebody out-- but I don't have enough time in my life to be evil).
The other benefit to being a pedestrian, and walking to work through the alleyways of creative neighborhoods is that you overhear-- or downright witness-- what goes on in the carports and garages of the village. One day, I overheard "rice paddies" used in conjunction with "RTV," and I *knew* what was going down: somebody was doing Molding & Casting, right in my backyard, and I HAD to be a part of it.
So, I ingratiated myself. I made myself valuable. I learned things. I became a part of the THING, dude-- and it was awesome.
The workload was awesome, too. 18 hours a day, for months-- without pay.
The abuse was relentless.
Pointless.
I'm a sculptor. I make things. If you destroy me, you destroy all of the work I may have ever created-- to do such a thing is both cruel, and stupid.
Eventually, I did break down, and bug out. I tried my hand at making props for stage shows-- but I had no idea what I was doing, nor the stresses involved in the RockStar Lifestyle.
Neither I nor my products were bomb-proof, as promised.
I retired in disgrace-- moved to the DC area, and learned Building Trades, Safety Trades, Civilian Support Trades: a bunch of really heavy stuff, for my country, my community, and for myself.
I am now who I thought I was, 20 years ago, but it took a LOT of work, and a LOT of support. -- and I want to be able to give something back to the DC Art Community.
I put you on my resume-- you are my people, and I AM your neighbor.
This is my reason/point/objective.
You wanna' go and get some?