I’m overflowing. Spilling. Splashing. Dripping.

My cup runneth over.

It is important to remember how I got here; hard graft. And to remember why…

I wanted to become a magician, because I wanted to see more magic. I wanted to be good enough to sit at the table. Perhaps, with cards anyway, I am. More importantly though, I am exposed to such beautiful performances. My magic is good enough to get me through the door, a seat at the table, a close up view.

Your art is the same. Whatever it may be.

Start slowly. Be bad.

That is where most people fail. They hate to be bad and expect that they can be good instantly. They sell expensive guitars years later with the thought ‘I just wasn’t very good’.

Forgive yourself. Keep being bad every week.

Meet others, and talk about what is meaningful in your art or theirs. Share, and try to be the worst artist in the room. By this I mean: little fish big pond is better.

You’ll get better. Don’t stop. Show less people maybe, but never stop.

Consider the rejection a magician gets. The disappointment on a child’s face when they see how you hid the coin is timelessly brutal. Your own criticism is permanently echoing in your mind.

Just don’t stop. Don’t stop until you have a seat at the table.

Find the others. One day they will bring you a cup.

Persevere.

A friend in art will fill your cup.

Brimming meniscus, shining glass.

Until it runs over, until it is overflowing.