Rules diminish creativity, they suppress the minds capabilities. I know this to be true. Rules are only a form of distrust, of suspicion, of insecurity, a tool of control. They are designed to filter the bad from us, to tame us, but I want to be what I am: an animal. When I am free of rules, that’s when I can be a successful artist. All it is is the instinct to conform; I surround myself with rules to the point where I make them. It’s an ugly mirror, it shows me the worst of humanity, it calls me a monster. But I know that my heart and soul are pure so I reject it with volatility, I am an animal. It makes me unwell. The creative mind is forever at risk of absorbing what it imitates, although as an animal I am not free of impurity completely, I sin as I must, I have flaws and make mistakes no less than anyone else; I also learn. Things like antipathy, frustration, the search for approval are all derivative of conformity, a product of insecurity.
