The Artist


Image: Aloys Neil Mark Fleischmann of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan More often then not an artist can feel secluded in their work. An artist can, and will feel like they speak a foreign language. Misunderstood by those listening. This can leave the artist feeling alienated, sometimes building them stronger, sometimes breaking them down.

There is a thin line between independence and isolation.

The artist walks the path untouched, the artist creates his or her own way. The artist may draw specs of inspiration from others, in this they feel familiar. Original. We will share different thoughts, create different things. We are different. We will be the life we create.

I know this, because this is me.

More often then not, I feel so alone in my world. Having traveled full spectrum in the hopes of creating a happy healthy self, I find myself secluded. Does no one else want this? I feel as if I don't have a place where I really belong. I've never had a home in which my heart felt steady. This is why I travel, this is why I am where I am today. This is.... My circus.

As supported as I am, I often feel like no one understands my authentic self, my thoughts, my experience, my journey, me.

No one will ever know the circus of Australia, no one will ever stand ontop the worlds highest mountains and scream with me. No one was there when I lost myself in Germany, no one can truly understand what the past two years have been. How these crucial years have changed me, how they've shifted the way I see day to day life, in this I feel different. I feel alone. No one will have ever experienced my highs and lows, not like I have.

And this goes for everyone. Have you ever felt so alone in your most precious of moments? All the treasure in the world, are worthless if you haven't anyone to share it with.

I haven't anyone to relate to. And I know I am not the only one.

So I'm writing this letter from the artist, to the artist. A memo to the self. This is why we are here. This is our gift to share. This is art. This is life. This is my letter to anyone who considers themselves different Anyone who often feels alone. Anyone who questions why can't they just do... What everyone else seems to be doing... And be happy?

There is a thin line between independence and isolation.

They say the greatest journey one can take, is the journey of self. I believe this is what I am doing. I believe this is what many of us are doing. And we are the only ones, who truly know ourselves. The being said, for a moment I wish for it to be shared. I wish to not feel so alone today. I wish for those who do not understand the artist, to understand.

So, here I share with you. My letter from the artist, to the artist.

If there ever was a end goal in life, a homebase, a happily ever after, this would be mine. Recreating the child self. The child self, is the innocence of our youth. The self who saw the world as it is and not as they wish it to be. The self who plays, fearlessly. Loves, carelessly. Nurtures, effortlessly. The self who remains young in their days. The self who remains optimistic, believes in the world, believes in the self.

As a child we lived our days fully. We embraced each moment. We fell, we got up. Life was simple. Life was playing, laughing, loving. Somewhere in between then and now, I was told to grow up. To stop living optimistic, and become realistic. I was told to settle, creativity died, I was molded into something the rest of the world saw as acceptable. I was living someone else's life. Sadly, many of us are. Many of us sacrifice our hopes and dreams out of fear. Fear of being judged, fear of being financially stricken, fear of being alone. The double standard here, this is much worse then actually being alone. The feeling, the waiting, you've settled. And you, the artist, know better.

We are only human. We are only emotions, thoughts, feelings. And like anyone else, all we want is to be accepted, loved.

To be different in your thoughts, is to be considered alone. So we settle. We, no longer the child self, listen and do as we are told.

So many of are living in isolation, we haven't shared our hopes and dreams. We fear rejection. But I have good news, the child self still believes in you.

Listen.

Dear artist; you are not alone. We are only human. We are innocence, we are youth, we are creators, we are our failures and our successes. Mistakes and all. It is here that we find familiarity. Where we share our similarities. Our hopes, our dreams. ***insert tears***.

This is how, I take my two steps backwards, in the hopes of moving forwards.

Still with me?

Two years ago, I ran away from Canada with nothing but a backpack and hula hoop. Many of my friends know this. My family have grown to accept this. It was what I needed. To find the child self again, I needed to only have me. I lost everything. I nurtured soul, from the ground up. My garden, was all I had. The seeds in which I planted, were all by choice. Not by choice of fear, not by choice of comfort. By choice of intention. From here on, all I had was me (and a travel sized hula hoop).

Fast forward. In May 2015 I was finally ready to come home. I travel by frequency, I go where I am needed, and so home to Canada was where I needed to be.

Today, I find myself in circus.

Circus. Really Kate?

This isn't the circus with the big red tent and elephants that you would NORMALLY expect (keyword: Normally, expect - pay attention we will come back to this). I never in a million years, could have guessed that this would be my art. I wasn't graceful in my youth, I wasn't considered strong, athletic, I was ALWAYS picked last in gym class. I was the oddball. I had insecurity issues (which makes for GREAT stage characters BTW), I wasn't the smartest kid in class. I liked to paint and draw. However, I wasn't particularly good at anything. To make things worse, I had no one pushing me to do good. To grow. I had zero experience going into this. I was a clean slate. A sponge, ready to absord the world as it was.

I am very fortunate to have found something I am good at. Something that I enjoy doing, and others enjoy as well. My work, makes people happy. That's all I could ever hope for.

So what is circus? And why is my obsession with circus, with hula hoops so..... Overwhelming.

People hear circus, and expect (KEYWORD) the following...... Red tent, clowns, laughing children, animals. Some circus's may have this. Some don't. To me, circus is like an onion. Under all these layers of costumes and makeup. There is.... The raw. Like any kind of art form, no one sees the progression stages. The painter rarely shares his billionth mistake..... The dancer rarely shares her falls, the singer rarely shares his worst...

The norm, see and expect the final project. The BIG finale. And the feeling we get after a show, makes this worth it.

So here's the raw. The bruises, the blisters, the blood, the falls, the mistakes. Exhaustion. It kills. Failure hurts more and more each time. The higher you are, the harder you fall. I haven't not have an "owie" the entire time I have practice circus. Judged constantly, there's always someone better, the challenge is always there. Art is often taken advantage of, under appreciated and over exhausted.

Quiet often, my friends don't understand this. Why would you want to hurt? To fall? To fail over and over again. I think, they expect the finale result to be there first time around. Everytime I hear someone say.... "I WISH I COULD DO THAT"....