“Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?” — Edgar Allan Poe
The kook in the picture… that’s me.
When I was a little younger.
A would-be artist with delusions of grandeur.
I was absolutely clueless.
Nice stupid haircut, though.
And the geekish glasses weren’t bad, either.
Mind the Otto Grotewohl memorial plaque!
He was the first president of East Germany.
Makes a nice pertinent background, doesn’t it?
Being clueless didn’t keep me from thinking that I had a lot of significant things to say.
And the world better listen.
And there you have it.
The essential prerequisite:
A big, inflated ego.
A deep, heartfelt conviction:
You just can’t do without.
You can do without a lot of talent.
But not without your big, fat ego.
And not only that - an artist friend of mine recommended to act outright insane.
To cultivate an eccentric and/or freakish persona.
To live up to the stereotype.
My attempts in that direction looked like this.
1. Big ego.
2. Silly glasses.
Moreover, you have to be convinced, that the world owes you a living.
Only then you may deign to dabble occasionally in painting… prose… poetry…
You lack the inspiration?
Artists of all times have always sought the help of les paradis artificiels…
A drug habit will only boost your credibility.
As well as any kind of mental disorder.
I am not being cynical.
This is more or less based on… uh… empirical data.
This was my frame of mind back then.
I was a hopeless romantic.
And I’m afraid I still am.
Peter Bies © 2010