As an artist, I find it disconcerting when I have no desire to paint or draw, and I feel flat and uninspired. The whole idea of “what if I can’t do this anymore?” is writ large across my thoughts, and it genuinely hurts; a sort of empty pain to be staring at a sketchbook, and a pencil feels like the most uncomfortable thing to be holding. Even scratching a few marks feels awkward and alien. Of course, this is not uncommon and I need to let it pass, but it can be quite unpleasant when I feel dormant and closed for business.
Needless to say, it is often linked to other areas of my life which perhaps feel overwhelming or unsatisfactory, and sometimes one informs the other: kickstarting my art reminds me of how I love what I do, and that in turns makes me feel more positive about everything. Other times, I need to sort out the externalities which are playing on my mind and clogging the creative pipes. Most of the time, I don’t know, so it’s best to just force myself to draw as that makes something shift, which then leads onto other things being able to fall into place.
and it feels so good
The relief to be feeling able to make art again (I drew a badly-proportioned racehorse) is wonderful, and I sink into it like a hot, bubbly, candle-lit bath. Here are two of the Ecuador birds:
And I have also made some little collage pieces, which I’ll be using on Instagram to make a stop-motion animation about my birdwatching logbooks.
I now, however, seem to have a cold which I am sincerely hoping doesn’t become flu (all the people I mix with have been jabbed) so I am going to take it really easy this week and stay warm and watch the snow. Luckily I don’t have to be anywhere this week so apart from wrapping up warm to take the dog for his walk, I can write the numerous emails that need sending and paint and draw and drink tea, luxuriating in feeling like I am, in fact, an artist, even one who smells profoundly of menthol and eucalyptus…
