I had some money, I made the best paintings ever. I was completely reclusive, worked a lot, took a lot of drugs. I was awful to people.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was an artist - I fancied myself an artist - I sold paintings at bars to pay my rent.
To make money, I did portraits . The truth is so bizarre! I'm kind of embarrassed. I was like a 19th-century pirate painter. I'd say, 'Your mom would love a painting of you!' A salesman! I'd hawk paintings.
In my previous life, I was an artist. I still paint. I love art.
I wanted to be an abstract painter, but I was rotten at it.
I decided to become a painter when my first four paintings where all published and attracted a great deal of interest. I exhibited one of them and it was sold.
I can safely say that I had an incredibly difficult and trying past growing up and trying to be an artist and standing up as who I am in this world.
The big pay-off was to work as an artist and gain some shred of respect from your friends, who were also artists. But there was never any notion that you could make a living out of art. On the rare occasions you had a gallery show, and sold a little work, well, that was just gravy.
I'm a painter, really. To be successful, you have to go to Hollywood, and I didn't like to travel.
I was a terrible painter - my portraits looked like the evil chimera love-children of Picasso's demoiselles and the BBC test card clown.
I painted. I wanted to be a painter. I sang.