I need to harness that energy - that moment with NB. It was such an intense experience, and when I left, I was so renewed. I had such an openness about making art.
Now, I just feel used up. Sleeping. Where there was a longing, there is an open meadow. Where there was rabid desire... there is now white light and soft clouds. No anger, no angst... just bliss. And every time I look at white canvas space, I think, "Yes. White. That's fine just as it is." No desire to make color, make line, make image, make life.
I still see things before I go to sleep, but the desire to catch them in a net and fling them onto the canvas has escaped. Escaped me. I want the net to catch me, and fling me. Upward, toward those clouds. Toward the whiteness. Toward light that has no line, no image.
Fling me. Fling me hard.
What if you're already there? Floating among the clouds, I mean. What if that's why the white is ok?
ReplyDeleteI've always envied artists with enough control to harness their inspiration and diligently, carefully place it on a canvas. I've always wondered what it would be like to have anything more than ideas that come in fits and spurts and slip away faster than you can remember to jot them down.