On Creativity

I have been feeling a bit drained lately. Not so much tired or beat down (though a bit under the weather), I just have this fear brooding in the back of my skull that I have lost some if not all of my creativity on the way to where I am now. I don't know if it's because of where I am or because I just neglected it, but I have been finding it frustratingly hard to conjure up anything novel and exciting.

It's not just drawing or painting, it feels like somehow everything: my writing, my conversations, my passion for music… it just feels like it's blunted, become bland, masked and inaccessible.

I don't know how concerned to be; on one hand, it's frightening. But I think it's the same sort of fear you have for the dark when you are young, it's unknown, lurking, monstrous, but in the end it's the same as it always was. In another sense, it's paralyzingly sinister, but I think recognizing this is reason to cheer up. Even if I am getting rusty, I can work at it. I am not quite convinced I was ever that fantastic an artist, writer or person.

To be quite honest, I think introspection of this sort is helpful. I am only putting time into this now so that I can write, not so that I can share.

In a different vein, this morning I have managed to:

• Drop a sculpture in progress.
• Take out the garbage (it needed taking)
• Not take out the recycling (it needed taking even more)
• Buy groceries and practice Spanish at the same time
• Write something for the first time in too long

Cheers,

Andrei