I sit here in my warm messy home watching the snow fall Surrounding me is silence; silence as deep and as dark as an long forgotten well. Life is getting in the way.
Health issues, family issues, money issues, weight issues have sucked the colour right out of my soul. I don't want to paint, draw, create. I want to sit here, listening to nothing, doing nothing.
I go into my little studio and take no pleasure from looking at all the colourful, shiny trinkets that abound? It is stuff, just stuff.
Why does it all feel like a weight on my shoulders, when it used to help me fly to wonderful imaginary worlds.
I wonder why I bother with this blog. Sharing my work, my heart. Is there anyone out there? I don't know if anyone reads this stuff'.
The author of one of my favourite blogs "Honest to God Jo" http://honesttogodjo.wordpress.com/ wrote in one of her essays, that creative people are insane by their very nature. We live outside the box and I for one, am often confused by the workings of this planet's inhabitants.
She states " I know quite a few “starving artists”, as you may call them. They may often discuss not having some of the basics we some of us take for granted but amongst these people it is very rare to find someone who complains of feeling “unfulfilled” or “unhappy” while they are working. There seems to be however a sense in our culture that if you are doing what you love, if it is pure creativity like art or music or writing for example, if it holds no other purpose other than the expression of yet another viewpoint of how to look at this life, then it hold no value...
... Society does not compensate its artists. Rather it firsts condemns them as errant members of society, unproductive and illogical. ironically. This sense of isolation and “differentness” often lends its own contribution to the creation of something new. It’s the “outside the box” thinkers that revolutionize our world, certainly not those of us who can only repeat the thoughts and ideas that were passed along to us by others. Those things have already been thought up."
For some reason, today I am buying into society's view of the creative person. I am both judge and judged; my own worse critic. My inner voice is shouting hurtful words and I am powerless against them, "Wasteful, hackneyed, spoiled, untalented, unaccomplished, unworthy, undeserving, ignorant" and it won't shut up.
My intellect tells me that this too shall pass. That the sun will shine again, my Muse will strike again, and I will soon find myself back in the Studio.
For now, I sit and watch the snow fall listening for a voice in the silence.