Preconceived Notion

First off, impressive site! WARNING: (If you don't like reading....or do not possess a sense of philosophical humor, skip this thread) Alright down to business... I just got out of jail and well... I am racking my brain to a few (50+) comments that spawned from my "therapuetic interludes" to kill off some dead time while being incarserated in Orange County Florida Corrections (33rd St & Vision in Orlando) for 45 days. Basically, benneath the wreakage of shit I've witnessed, lived through, pissed away, destroyed, repaired, overcame, and continue to experience and survive by (that ever present passion for suffering and pain), I again (unconsciously) picked up a #2 pencil, and stole a few correctional officer's black PaperMate medium ink pens and began to escape into that place... and produce what i call "doodlings." Hence, i tapped back into my childhood dream of being an artist after 20 years passing, and those wasted years of externalized explorations. But, my best works always seems to happen when i'm in the most pain (financially, emotionally,psychologically, and of course while i am disconnected from the societal bs & governing responsibilities associated to the endless demands) ...like being jailed!!! In short, i escaped those superficial bars and found that unexplainable spiritual ambiance of freedom and wholeness i abandoned so long ago....or thought i did anyway!! ...through artwork. I relished in the escape, and found my freedom again. I found the old me! So, as I obsessively robbed the shelves for antiqued blank pages in the front/back of the library books (due to the lack of decent paper products.. including, but not limited to the cheap toiletries....) The end result was people from every segregated group (i.e. black, white, latin, etc...) all told me; " Holy Shit...You should be doing tattoo work!" People were harrassing me to draw, while the tattooist, pick & pokes, and art lover's were vying for who had first dibbs on what came out next. Meanwhile, i see their art and am in awe...but to me, mine is no where near as good...wtf? Now, my concerns... What I considered shitty drawings, people were lining up to buy everything i drew with food, drinks, clothes, you name it!. Most of the artwork completed during that 45 day span (maybe 150 original freehand drawings) , i probably would've just given away, had the need for substanance, real food, and sugar not hindered me and my normal spoilages. Honestly, i felt empowered, yet cheapened, almost disappointed in myself for selling my artwork because it's never perfect or finished...go figure! Plus, I've never sold my drawings, and rarely shared them. But, I was peaking out earning 30-40 items per week in exchange for my artwork(s), while these guys were apologizing that they would've paid more. I wrote this decision off as survival mode. Meanwhile, I've done construction for 20 years to feed the heathens, and take care of my muse, Terri. While, I take great pride and induce myself with integral determination to provide quality results in everything i do, i never realized that even when i was building swimming pools, it was always there...it was artwork, labor, and the love & passion for creativity that fueled me, not the money i spent chasing for 20 years. End result: I drugged, drank, gambled, and pissed the hard earned money away, while refusing to do what may be my calling. If per se I have a gift, or i am capable of immortalizing my artworks as many achieve...how in the hell can i sell that which has been gifted to me? Better yet, how the fuck can i accept the fact that i don't even exert one one thousandth of the effort drawing as i did working those 20 years without wanting to kick my own ass? My problem; the responses in jail scared me more than death! To have ever imagined i would have experienced this type of response in jail at 38 years of age leaves me to seek fellow 'traveler's' by whom might understand that i kept my art private, and buried the dream to protect it for fear the things i value the most would never be stolen, abused, or lost as has all else. Naturally, no amount of silver, gold, nor money could equate to the 'feeling' the arts (writing, poetry, sculpting, etc...) has afforded me. Thus money remains lesser than the therapeutic value the escape has privileged me with. I am my own worst critic, and for hell nor high water have i yet to understand if this is a blessing? or a curse that has haunted me my whole life? Translation: I see other artists works and am "blown away!" I respect the freedom artists have which fuels their works, and admire those who've immortalized themselves long after death itself through their artistic creativity. I grew up with bikers covered in tats, and remain a empty canvas myself. F' the money... I may be penniless in life...yet am filthy rich in spirit! But, how can i cross the thresholds to accept my art holds value out there? Better still, how can i accept it's time to 'sell out' on a talent that i don't consider work at all? (no insult intended of course) The irony is i cannot, will not, nor ever have been able to critique my artworks. But... as I was released on 4-20-2010 (4:20 go figure!!!!) I am determined, and bent on the idea that today is the 1st step to the edge of immortalizing whatever it is that this ominious mystery has laid upon my table! I tried to bury it....it won't die! I tried abusing it...it won't surrender! I tried to ignore it...it haunts me! I see it in my teenager's...and they've connected to the piercings, artworks, personality, and hereditary traits I tried to hide from them in an effort to save them from this passion, this love...cause it can only be measured by equal shares of suffering and pain. (my true inspiration!) Today I saw the balance of all things, and can finally under-stand what musicians, artists, poets, and philosophers have been chiseling away at for all time. The writing on the wall if you will! I came here for advice, and realized it's all opinionated by what our perceptions create long before we decide or choose what to make of "it". My ultimate question (finally...) Have any of you lost the passion for your talent because you've elected to make your living selling pieces of yourself...your artwork? Pathetic question perhaps...but damn if i want my escape to become my prision. Artist's Escape? ~Or~ Escape Artist? In jail I found freedom in a medative induced flight and recreated myself , Yet as I am now free again, i again face the crest of enslavement to the very shit I despise, as the slide may have left me bruised and bleeding...and on probation... But....I'm still f'in breathin! So... with any sincere effort and preconceived notion, I am prepared too apologize to anyone brave enough to sit under my gun...for God knows; as do I... to perfect the results I cannot... I just hope whoever happens to be the one that doesn't like the results...let it be wriiten, I gave my best effort! Apprentiship... here I come!