At times it's incredibly easy to write about my art but right now I'm blank. The mind of an artist is a peculiar place. It's challenging to speak openly without sounding pretentious. It's a strange kind of torture really (sounding all too dramatic) the cycle that I go through. It looks something like this:
- The need to create. The intense internal drive to make something out of nothing. I have never found the proper words to explain this.
- The internal dialog saying not to. Either because I don't know what to paint or just something inside that makes me simultaneously not want to create.
- Irritation. This is why it's hard to be in a relationship with an artist, haha, but luckily my man is one too. We know when to stay clear of one another.
- The push. I'm going to make art. I'm making art.
- Relief. Ahh that felt nice, but it's not finished and I'm not sure what to do next exactly and I need to let it dry soooo... I'm going to leave it a bit.
- Now I'm going to write about it. This is a newer addition in the cycle. This is a hard step for me. I will say that I'm learning a lot from it, though.
- Vulnerable. I feel naked and afraid. (I kid. I can't believe that's a real tv show.) It's kind of scary being like "hey I made this thing and it's kind of part of me and very personal I hope you like it."
- Repeat. The time of the cycle varies. It can all happen in a day. A lot of the time it does. But I've been known to get stuck in 2. and 3. and it's not a pretty sight.
This painting got stuck in the relief stage for a year. It was one that was "drying" in the back of my studio. The momentum that I have now is spilling onto these half-finished projects and I'm loving it.
There wasn't an overwhelming metamorphosis but the progress felt nice.
I had a great week off eating gluttonous amounts of pumpkin pie but I missed this outlet. It took me by surprise just how much.