Well, a whole lot has changed since I last posted from a creative work perspective. For now I have put my land, sky and waterscapes on hold.
I used to go for drives with a partner. We’d stop somewhere and I’d shoot. With a couple of drinks and maybe a snack or two these excursions doubled as a sort of cheap dates. He spent a lot of time I didn’t have exploring the backroads. I’d state a general kind of preference and he work out the fine details of how and where we might go.
But things change. The partner and I parted ways. It’s one think to go for a drive while enjoying the company of a friend. It’s another to do it alone. Getting out of the GTA is a commitment, and I am less inclined to go trekking off on my own miles away from anything in an untrustworthy car.
The work of my landscapes is part of my love for light. I just love light.
When I started to see that my interest in skies were echoing my late father’s, I couldn’t help but feel I was borrowing what I was doing. Is this really mine? Or am i postponing living in my own skin.
And even earlier going down the documentary path that I did, this was the realm of my late husband’s. You always have your own reasons for doing things, of course. I knew this works better.
But sometimes I think we borrow from others because someone else has already validated it. It’s safer. More comfortable, maybe.
But there may be others reasons why we become directionless. Maybe we don’t believe in our gifts. Or maybe to follow your own path is exposing. Maybe the feared critism will cut too deep, too personally. Maybe you will be revealed for the fraud you think you are.
I don’t know. But all this came out of a question. As I looked at the possibility that maybe I didn’t have as much time as I thought left, I looked back on my life and saw it as a whole, I thought, what the fuck was the point of all that?
So now that I think of it maybe I concluded the pain and hardship you encounter in your life, if youve encountered enough if it, maybe it should count for something. That maybe I should make something of mine because otherwise, it seems like such a waste.
And so sometimes you must simply begin. Without knowing where it’s leading or what you are meant to be doing. It’s unlike me to go without a plan. I have to trust that something inside me or speaks through me will lead as long as I get out of way. Easier said they done. We get in our own way.
It’s funny, I doubt my abilities less than the part of me that is doubtful about the usefulness of art. But, somehow I don’t think I chose this journey. It chose me.
So now I am trying to listen to the vibrations inside me. The ones I’ve trampled over, or otherwise ignored. Follow those preoccupations. Don’t question. Don’t try to please. Don’t try to antisipate. Listen. Just listen. Trust.
What I hoped was the desire to please would subside. It hasn’t. I’m still have the same sensitivities. The difference is the shift in focus. Instead if looking at other people’s work and wishing i had done it first, or thinking perhaps that’s the direction I should explore, I’m looking inward. Go back to that that question, that exasperation, that despair, that desperation. What was the point of that? What is the point if all of it? What am I here for?
And if you are speaking to me, whether it’s praise or critism I have to do my best to shut you out because only I can hear the thing and it speaks quietly.
It’s like looking at a murky, grainy video and trying to make it out. Or seeing something in the dark. You think you see it and then your not sure. But bit by bit it takes shape. Something out or nothing. Or was it nothing?
The work that follows is infinitely more personal and introspective.
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
gummygunk
origamiaround
