Sometimes the very thought of making or writing something can become the barrier. When it becomes like this I just start. Like now. I have no clue what to write, just the growing frustration that I am not. Why this plays out time and time again for me (and I suspect others) always amazes me. It eludes me. The longer it is put off the bigger it becomes-the fact that nothing is happening-and then finally I just start. I don’t think the mind can create AND procrastinate at the same time. Creativity usually wins out and then suddenly it’s no longer an issue. Amazingly, the doing is the antidote. This relief coupled with the stimulation of what is happening on the canvas or paper shifts everything. Time slows down, concern gives way to gentle excitment. I call it the Art Plane…it always felt to me like this space or place was a distinctly separate plane. It’s always available. All the time. Sometimes I can get in it but mostly I’m on the ground looking up at it wondering why I’m not. Spending too long out of it, at least for me, is not a good thing.
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