All the stories are complete.
All the sketches are done.
The wood panels are complete and stacked, waiting for me.
The wax, pigments, torch, brushes, heat gun, knives and hot plates are all waiting.
But where am I?
I am looking for something else to do.
I decide I should dust and vacuum first. I've been through this so many times. It is scary, truly intensely emotional, to have to again see if my hands can create something worth keeping. Have they ever been successful before? How do I know?
So many doubts.
Maybe this will be the time that only trash appears on the wood panels. It's weird, after decades I really am apprehensive, more than when I was young and confident.
I didn't look at the studio when I walked past and started the laundry after dusting and vacuuming.
A mystery surrounds creating art and the artistic process. This is probably because so many artists don't know how it all happens, why it happens, or if they can make it happen again. A lot is written about artists having different brains, inherited ability, or something supernatural - I don't know about all that. I don't think there is a force outside of me that is guiding me. I think it is more of a releasing of all of my fears and my thinking too much, and letting go of all the insecurity, and just doing it recklessly and fearlessly. It can be like a trance or meditation.
A frantic meditation.
I know I have to get in there and just start. Here I go...