Well, it finally happened...after years of waiting and wishing. You see I have always dabbled creatively. And I've always had the belief that in order for me to really be productive and make great stuff I need a dedicated space. A space all my own. Space to spread out breath and keep everything. For the last 10 years I've been spread out everywhere. Well, I don't have a dedicated space all my own (yet) but I finally got it all in one accessible spot, right next to the kitchen table where I usually work. It's relieving, exciting and a little scary. In my head I've told myself that's what's been holding me back. Now what excuses do I have? I mean a dedicated space is still important to me. But I can now officially take over the kitchen table and store it all in my magic trunk for safe keeping in between working.
The other night I was laying in bed with the mister and it hit me - nobody is holding me back but me! What a thought. When I pay attention to the things I tell myself, I realize I am always blaming my unhappiness on others. I would be happy if...fill in the blank. It usually goes something like this, I would be happy if so and so would do something different which would enable me to do something different and then I would be happy, more productive, rich, more fulfilled, whatever. Why am I making my happiness contingent on others? Who knows. But it is something I will be paying more attention to and stopping. That's how the magic trunk came about in the first place.
Well, the trunk has always been magic and I've had it for years. I found it at an old antique store at least 10 years ago. I loved the beat up look of it and the old 1940's newspaper I found in the bottom of it. The store has since closed. But the trunk has been with me ever since. It's in need of repair and refinishing. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I had been thinking if only I had dedicated space I could be making all kinds of beautiful stuff...blah, blah, blah - living in that alternate reality of mine. When it hit me: what can I do now that will work? And I remembered my beloved trunk taking up space in our storage shed. So there you have it.
While I was in the process of organizing all of my endless art supplies I took some time to review my endless sketchbooks. And what occurred to me was a sad realization. Here's where the scary part comes in: what if it's not a matter of dedicated space? I have at least 5 sketchbooks all with maybe 5 to 10 ideas or sketches /scribblings and none of them looked appealing to me at all. So now that I have some organized space it's afforded me the opportunity to examine what my art making is about. What I hope to accomplish. What is appealing to me. What do I want to make. Or I could always find something or someone else to blame and continue to stall out my process...
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