This morning I went into my poor neglected studio.
It feels like forever since I felt any urge to even so much as lift a pencil
but in fact it is probably only a couple of months.
It is so strange not to feel the need to immerse myself in line or colour.
I wonder fleetingly as I look around at the evidence of my wrestling with creativity,
if the change is a simply a sign of getting old.
Still, something is compelling me to fidget about
and try and find some way of scratching the itch I have had
ever since I stood among the ruins of Ephesus.
Something of the bone-like colours of the stone and the earth;
the chisel marks still crisp or smooth under the fingers,
and the contrast of age-worn silky slipperiness or dust dryness under the feet,
wants out.
The dilemma as ever, where to start.
Sketches of course.
But THIS is new, this reluctance to make a start.
I who usually just throw myself into things with no fear of the blank page
now deliberately hovering on the threshold of the first mark.
I realise I don't to begin on paper is the problem.
I so want to start on prepared wooden boards that have been gessoed,
and left with a little bite so the line can be incised,
and the paint built, or dribbled;
impasto or wash moulding the image.
That's the rub then.
It's energy to prepare the boards that is wanting.
Having no minions other than hubby
I will have to vouchsafe this part of the preparation to him then.
Well I'm glad I stopped long enough to have this little chat!
It's cleared my thought processes a treat.
Now I can start on paper!
May you find a listening ear if you need one this weekend,
and whatever you do,
Be Blessed
P.S. Thanks to my favourite blogger* I find it is Spirit Day in the U.S.A. and want to stand with all who will be wearing purple today.
*Read http://blueeyedennis-siempre.blogspot.co.uk/ to learn more.
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