That's what I think when I stare at my website's name. To be fair, I didn't come up with it. My friend Reba back in high school used to holla back this phrase between classes down the halls. I never knew what I did that was uncanny but it was catchy, short and memorable. Emmanuelle just gets way too many porn jokes and, "wait, you're not a male?" responses (especially growing up around immature peers). Even adults today will do the same if I tell them my legal name. Mani sounds a lot like Mandy so I get away with murder. Yay!
Today I feel like a fake. A phony. If I say whether I'm doing well, meh or badly as an artist, I am projecting out an image or view to the world on my tiny blog of who I could be to whoever reads it and they'll go and assign me into: Superstar? Starving Artist? Drone? or whatever archetypes available. The inner mother/teacher within me would like to be real and down to earth. I hope to reach out to other artists in a rough spot and make them say to themselves, "OK. This is the BS I might go through too, so let me do XYZ," so they don't have to go through what I did. Doing this also means allowing a certain part of my life to be open, and vulnerable to possible attack from others. I wonder how it will affect my business and how I am viewed professionally.
Whatever will be the case, I welcome it now with open arms. Slightly wincing but with open arms nonetheless. I know I am a great artist and anyone who says otherwise can go FUCK themselves (this blog is now rated R). I hope not to censor anything and look forward to anyone willing to open a dialogue about the art industry in general since we have so much to learn everyday anyway.
Suck it Holden Caulfield.
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