Day Two Hundred Forty One: Insanity for the Sake Of Art?

I love biographies of artists. I love to read them and I especially love movies. However, I notice that most of them are crazy. And somehow manage to kill themselves: Van Gogh shot himself in the stomach, Basquiat managed to OD on heroin, Pollock ran his drunk ass into a tree. Perhaps it is the movies makers that find tragedy more entertaining, perhaps making art drives them insane, or the insanity drives the art. At any rate, I wonder sometimes if I have enough crazy in me to push my art to spectacular. I am certain some people will assure me that I am indeed off kilter, but it still gives me cause to pause. 

Sunday, August 29: Sharpie on paper, 9x12