Oh my gosh... it begins!!

My heart is in my throat. My nerves are stacked and my fingers tingle... I'm facing down the beginning of something I know is going to be time consuming and challenging; that will bring me overwhelming happiness and some really diminishing blows to my ego (everything balances out in the end, after all). I'm looking Patreon in the eye and, with a little nervous anticipation, extending an upturned palm and saying, "well, shall we give this thing a go?"

I've wanted to start a Patreon up since I first heard of it more than three years ago, but have always managed to come up with an excuse. You see, I am manic depressive. I have many days where I wake up full of zest and lust for life, where I walk into my kitchen and sit at my desk, and get straight to work while the coffee brewer heats up. I get SonReal, Thrice, Deftones or Lights playing on Spotify and hunker down in my little spot of sunshine by the big window. These days thrill me completely; they keep me going as an artist. As I said earlier, though, everything balances out. Many mornings, I wake up, respond to a bunch of emails, read my texts and then turn over, cocooning into my cold sheets, wondering why I bother. The darkness in my head clouds my view, and sadness creeps in for no reason. I zone out and stare at the ceiling. I feel lonely. I think about quitting this passion of mine and going back to school to be a tradesperson (no, seriously – that's another blog, though). In an effort to combat the sadness, I sometimes think about Patreon; about how I would strive for success if I opened myself up, directly, to my extraordinary followers.  If I would only TRY, I'll bet I could eventually reach my goals, and I know there are many out there who believe in me and might choose to help support me if only they had a venue through which to do so.

Recently, my mania took a turn for the better; I spent a day cataloguing nine years of full-time art nude modelling images, and felt my heart swell with pride... I'd put my soul into crafting these images, left drops of blood on the floors of more than one abandoned building from not being aware enough of the rusty metal next to my skin. I've stood in awe in the presence of millennia-old cave drawings, I've run from the police, I've climbed mountains, swam in glacial-fed waterfall pools, relaxed my tired muscles in hot springs once visited by saints, danced in the rain... how, with these experiences, can I possibly feel sorry for myself? I've worked myself to the bone, but have stories aplenty, and I'm not ready to close that book; there are so many pages left blank, and so many goals left to attain!

With your patronage, those pages will be filled with scribbles and notes and memories. I'll laugh and cry and howl at the moon... and I welcome you with open arms to come along for the ride! It may be a rocky one at times, but my goal is to create art through it all, and tell a story that we all can look back on and enjoy together.  After all, every photo is worth a thousand words, and boy... do I have a lot of photos...

Well... (DEEP BREATH) shall we get started? :)

Here we go!