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  • Writer's picturematilde tomat

m·r [07]

My 7th evening.

I remember when I drove here, my car full to the brim with card and paper and cardboard and materials and tools. So much hope and so much desire to make, create, be positive...

instead, I can only think about how negative and moaning I have been today and yesterday and how unhappy I am at university and in the local artistic community. I do not feel listened to. I feel that the art I am making is totally different and it's not understood. I know that some of my ideas have been "copied" and no one acknowledges that. I feel the odd one out. I feel like a lonely fish in the wrong pond. It feels like I am talking in a language no one understands and no one is willing to learn. It makes me feel I am the one in the wrong. It takes me back to the old teacher who criticised me at school. I do not belong to that group. I think I should be supported and my ideas cherished and not criticised a priori. Even prayer has been off this morning. I don't feel I was concentrated.

Therefore, I spent the day first making a list of things I should do and that I didn't do, of course. And then just lying on the sofa, watching endless episodes of Father Brown on my laptop. This has been my day. I literally sketched an idea in my journal, but that was it.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. I know I can just sleep and do nothing - and that is maybe what I need - but I also do not want to waste my time here.

Today has been different.

piece of paper evening #8

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