I am not an artist. Or maybe I am, I don’t know, it’s not my position to judge.
Art is after all in the eye of the beholder. i.e. the general public, the viewer, not the creator.
It’s the bane of the creator that we are too closely involved in our own work to accurately judge whether our work can be called Art. Of course we have a biased opinion, I think everything I do is significant or I wouldn’t do it, but I also detest everything I’ve created as I know I could have done it better, had I been more in control of my faculties, had my vision not been clouded by the mundane things in life, or the limitations of media, or my lack of technique or skill. Whatever I draw, it’s usually a percentage of what I aim at – 70%, 80%, occasionally 90%, but rarely the jackpot 100.
But on the other hand I can look back at some pieces and see subconscious threads appearing that I hadn’t been aware of when I began the piece. Sometimes I’m bemused how I managed to draw some illustrations. Pictures evolve as you create them, sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally, sometimes pictures reach a level you hadn’t considered at first. Those are the good times, when you seem to be in partnership with your hand rather than controlling it completely, when intuition takes over.
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