18 March 2013
I've just completed an intense studio run that has lasted nearly four months.
Every spare moment has been consumed with working toward great projects and goals that I've longed for, things I've wanted in the deepest parts of my Artist self. And today I stepped back and took stock of what all I have done.
My breath caught and I felt...complete.
I told myself that when I was done, I would take a break. Treat myself to a vacation. But what I'm finding is my mind pulls toward my print table and all I can see is the paint flowing steadily into containers while I dream of new colors to mix.
The soft fluid movement of the pigment as it so easily adapts to it's new surroundings. A behavior I seek to learn in my own life, to be so accepting of change.
I want to see what it will show me next, almost like a gypsy's fortune telling crystal ball - it knows where I will go before I do. It keeps me tied to it, wanting more.
A break would mean time away from the threads and frayed edges, the stack of colors and possiblity.
No, I don't want a break. I want more making, more connection, more surrender. I feel almost desperate at the idea of being away from it. My studio practice has become so bold, entwining itself so deeply into my life that I cannot break away.
I do not think I would have it any other way.