Tuesday, February 22, 2011
It used be about writing because I had too much inside my head that meditation became sessions of me drowning.
It used to be about releasing it into the ether and letting the Universe take care of the details.
It used to be about drawing/writing/painting about ideas floating in my head and putting an anchor on them so I an better inspect it.
But now, my cursor doesn't dance across the screen. The pen sits in the original spot of origin and it becomes a doodle of petualant defiant toddler like girls or birds wearing gold lockets holding a vile of blood.
Anything relating to the creation of art now has a price tag, a deadline, a value that feeds the need of the visceral and not the spiritual.
I think it's time to get back to that.
It's time to get back to just looking inside of myself, both the pretty and the ugly, extract it out and place it on paper... on canvas... at least spray paint it to the wind. The pressure is real as is time. I know that time is slipping and for each moment I push art making aside, it becomes time wasted in keeping the momentum of me moving.
But that pressure cannot effect the message i have in my pieces. It cannot be watered down, or ignored, or cheapened when a price tag is on it.
It's time to stop worrying of where I will be with my art in two years, five years, ten years. I need to shut up and just do it.