The Execution of a Routine

I sometimes marvel at my lack of creative focus. Back when I was working in "the real world," I used to think that artists, writers, musicians and their ilk woke up with a clear idea of where they wanted their work to go for the day. Now I'm not so sure there are many who do just that, and I think it's okay if they, nay we, don't. I think it's just fine and dandy.

Don't get me wrong. I do wake up with ideas. Truth be told, I also sleep with ideas, I eat with ideas, I do laundry with ideas, I have conversations with ideas, my most intimate moments are fraught with ideas. Ideas follow me around like a freakin' relentless Greek chorus. However, I've yet to wake up, or even be fully awake heading up to my studio, and think, "Hmmm... today I'm going to take a ripped out corner from an old Pottery Barn catalog, swipe some gesso across the page, add a ghostly image of a woman.. and..." (see above picture). It just doesn't happen that way for me.

When I did the above bit of work it began as I perused the old PB catalog. I was actually looking for a chair that I could use in another piece, but the pictures hung on clothesline caught my eye. I ripped it out and spent some time looking at it. It gave me a sort of white washed, dreamy feeling. So, after I glued it down, I swiped the gesso across the paper. It started reminding me of how I felt when I was in Hungary, which meant that I needed to add some paprika colored streaks for my own satisfaction. The faded girl came next because I feel that although Hungary is a huge part of me, it's so far away. My time there feels as though it was in another lifetime. Next came the postage marks and validation stamps, then the writing, because all good memories should include writing. Certainly my memories of Hungary have made their way into my writing. I finished it off with the ferns because I wanted to bring it back to earth, I wanted to enhance the organic feel that I was getting from it.

So, there it is. None of it planned, all of it executed. I was happy with how it turned out.

That's pretty much how my days go too... none of them planned, all of them executed, and I'm happy with how they turn out. I have my little routines. I need my first cup of coffee out on the porch, no matter the weather, just to greet the day. Actually, that's maybe my only routine these days, because once the caffeine kicks in, it's anybody's game.

Maybe lack of focus isn't quite the appropriate phrase. One woman's lack of focus is another woman's free-spiritedness? Hmm. I may not know exactly where I'm going, but I'm always on the move, and the scenery... well, that goes without saying.