With the new Charlotte gallery opening in August, I’m reeling with a sort of edgy electricity — four paintings underway, three new commissions to start, and a multi-layered research project — one which will require, because of the times, complete openness to new realities. I’m feeling what Samuel Beckett referred to, when embarking on a period of intense creativity in his life, as “the siege in the room.” Sitting with the blank canvas for “Hanna” and working out details of the composition since very early this morning, I’m trying my best to get lost in one project at a time, while keeping the others organized and airborne.
Honestly, I truly love these times of barely controlled creative fever … riding the wild horse … a time to, as my father always challenged me, see what I’m made of. Never has a life of rural isolation served me better and I’m so thankful for that: the reclamation of StudioKitchen, while not finished, has settled into a comfortable place; the garden is in; my loved ones are safe; there’s food in the pantry; recently re-stocked studio supplies; and probably enough money to keep the lights on …. hell, this summer I’ll even have the luxury of air conditioning …. so here we go!
I’m ready to lose time for a while (an antisocial work schedule untethered to the clock or calendar) … actually, that’s already happened. There was a time I worried about such weird work habits and rituals, but not anymore. All that matters in the end is the work. We were put here to create, and I have finally digested the red pill — success has absolutely nothing to do with validation, or security, or conformity, or anything else on the material plane — to create is simply why we are here. And as scary as it is for us to trust, doing what we are here to do is all the sustenance we need, and then some. Samadhi, as Buddha said … “when you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.”
A while back I found a book about the work habits of artists, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work. An easy read, it’s REALLY interesting, and it also makes me feel better about living an unconventional life among mostly conventional people. In fact, reading about other creatives’ daily lives and peculiar relationships makes me feel almost normal.
… About painting while listening to a book or television … I’m in good company. Chuck Close:
Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get to work. [He likes to have the TV or radio on in the room.] I like a certain amount of distraction. It keeps me from being anxious. It keeps things a bit more arm’s length.
… About the angstie start of a new project, Joyce Carol Oats:
Getting the first draft done is like pushing a peanut with your nose across a very dirty floor.
… About the overwhelming compulsion to get back to the studio, Ernest Hemingway:
You write until you come to a place where you still have your juice and know what will happen next and you stop and try to live through until the next day when you hit it again. When you stop you are as empty, and at the same time never empty and filling, as when you have made love to someone you love. Nothing can hurt you, nothing can happen, nothing means anything until the next day when you do it again. It is the wait until the next day that is hard to get through.
