There is a question I have been mulling for a long time:  Do we artists make our art out of ego or out of passion?

Finding your passion is in your innermost longing.  The trappings of art, the outward manifestations, are a lot of bullshit.

The reality of art is digging inside oneself and finding that place where you bring a unique form to a known philosophy and say, “This is what I think about it.”  You put it out there, and if people like it, fine, and if they don’t, that’s fine, too.

Your art is your baby.  You’re going to love it because if you can’t love this part of yourself, you can’t love anything.

So are we constantly trying to cater to what “they” think?  Are we going to cater to some dealer who can sell three roses in a vase 20 times in a month so you can take a private jet to a beach and sit on your ass?

Or are you struggling every day to come up with an answer to the question:  Who in the hell am I, what am I trying to say?

I believe we are all unique.  We all have different DNA, ideas, faults, and grandeurs.  We have to find them all.  We have to go down into the mine and hope that we pull out chunks of gold and diamonds.  We are the DeBeers of the world; we just don’t know it.

Matt