I feel bad. It has been a while since my last entry, too long really. I actually have much to tell you and much to share with you, I just haven’t yet put it together in blogform. I’ve been toying with things I’ve wanted to do for ages – such as lino cutting (something I haven’t done since a high school art class some 11+ years ago) and ink and brush work. I’ve been dipping in and out of art books, Julia Cameron’s The Right To Write and other sources of inspiration and motivation and cues for reflection.
As I type I’m listening to a podcast and playing my (musical) keyboard, sort of wondering how I’ll make some melodic sense out of it as yet another key plays up. I guess I’ll need to buy another one. I wonder if I have the finances to do that. Perhaps I’ll add it to my Christmas list and hope against hope Santa (or someone) is good to me.
I’ve been drawing, I’ve been scratching, I’ve been sketching with ink and brush. I’ve been going through my artwork and thining out the collection. I’ve been ripping painted canvases off boards, in part just to see what will happen. Perhaps I’ll use the canvases in collages or something. Perhaps I’ll paint over the plain boards. Perhaps I won’t end up doing anything with them at all. That actually has probably been the most important lesson I’ve come to learn lately, most things don’t really matter. Perhaps you’ll make a masterpiece and perhaps you’ll make a huge mess. Both are fine. Not believing this, that either option is fine, will lead to all kinds of anxiety and is a potent source of procrastination. Not just in art, but in life more generally. You have to have a willingness just to see where things end up.
Of course it’s almost midnight and I’m tired, so I invite you to talk anything typed above with a grain of salt.