I often wonder if writing is terribly hard work or it is terribly easy. Sometimes it feels easy, which lures one into a false set of confidence, only to be paralyzed with doubt when nothing flows. Right now I’m doing a free write, a little exercise to get the words flowing. Next will come focus, but first must come flow. In this way, painting is also like writing. I like the idea of thinking of creative pursuits as water. You’re either blocking it or channeling it. Most of the time, I’ve had it blocked. It isn’t my nature to let it flood all over the place. That would be so untidy! Paint dripping everywhere! A hot glue-gun mess of ideas and no solutions! If my brain can’t put order to it, it wants nothing to do with it.
I want to know if I can be creative without limits. Is it in me? If so, how extraordinary! I will conduct an experiment and observe the results like a scientist. Like the person who doesn’t have to clean up the glitter or paint drips from the walls. No more tidying of thoughts and words into neat little rows. Not until the creation has occurred and there’s no way to take it back.
Will it be writing? Will it be painting? Will it be both? I don’t know. I’d like to dive into it all and see what happens. Excitement and fear battle it out with creative output the only thing left on the battlefield.