Competing Art…

I remember seeing a Pollock on TV once, but that didn’t come close to what it felt like standing in front of one years later. On TV, it was just wild splatters. In person, it hit different—you actually feel something. I thought about how other painters give you faces, landscapes, fruit—things you’re supposed to “get.” With Pollock, I always felt a little lost. People talked about how powerful his work was, but I can’t remember anyone calling it beautiful.

But there I was, in front of two of his paintings, just stuck. The heavy black paint looked like troubled water frozen mid-storm. That feeling was its own kind of beauty. Even writing this, I can’t quite explain it. That’s what makes his work so wild to me—words just don’t get there.

I bring all this up because I don’t love competition, especially not in art. If it’s something you can measure—how far you can jump, how fast you run a mile—I get that. But how do you judge writers, poets, artists? What if a bunch of pieces move you in totally different ways?

I’m not really the competitive type, even though people push me to be. I don’t write to win. I write because my soul needs to spill a little truth. Even writing this blog, I was thinking, “Gawd, I hate competing,” but, well, bills exist. Grants are different—you’re competing, sure, but you’re judged on the work itself, and the money’s meant to help you keep going. You actually have to show what the grant did for your art, which I like, because I’d be making the work anyway.

This competition, though? It’s global, it’s capitalist, and it’s all about sales. Before I knew there was a contest, I figured I’d knock out a few more projects and then do a book release—maybe with a reading, maybe a little party. Now, I have to shift gears: less writing, way more promo. All that matters is how many copies you sell in three months.

With grants, it’s about the art. With this, it’s about numbers. Anyone with a new book out this year can play, no genre splits, just a big free-for-all. I hate that side of writing—the hustle, the business. But if you want to make a living, the business sometimes matters more than the words themselves. And honestly, that’s a tough thing to swallow.