Sunday, January 03, 2010
I've been off work since 12/21. I've not spent as much time in the studio as I'd have liked. I've been struggling with making work since the mid-December. This isn't a new experience for me . . . happens every 18 months or so. My head fills with white noise . . . not the good kind caused by lovely women with narrow waists, flaring hips and substantial thighs . . . but the bad kind that forms in the internal resonance chamber of doubt, self-questioning and lack of interest from the external world. At times like this, my hand seems to be attached to someone else. Let's call this someone else Lavinia. She's a epileptic, 65 year old female Episcopal church elder (can women do that within the Episcopalian church?) from Bethlehem, PA. She can't draw for shit, doesn't have sex any more and likes to pass the time checking her mailbox and watching her stories on the tv. I'm pretty much Lavinia at this point but I don't have a vagina or osteoporosis. (Yet.)
Anyway. This bout of self-doubt isn't nearly as bad as the others I've grappled with in previous years. I still go to the studio, but I read, pace, attempt to sketch stuff out, etc. Nothing really coheres but I still feel correct for showing up and picking up a 4H or 4B. But fog, fuzz, and lack of focus reign. Ugh.