One rather restless evening brought a new series of work to fruition. I had spent the past 18 months working on very cerebral and detailed work regarding childhood memory and our flawed histories. The work continues on, but I needed a vent, a mental escape into another world that wasn't so close to my own. This spawned an inspired moment in front of a blank board on my painting table. This is what came out in a matter of 45 minutes:
I thought it a happy fluke, but I could not stop thinking about it; the fluidity, the ease, the unconscious response of my hand, and the eurphoric sense of satisfaction when it was done.
So I decide to give it another go the next night and this appears:
Now there is no turning back! I have found my sandbox and I will play my ass off in it.
Discovery and the drive to always move forward can produce what initially appears to be disparate tracks of work, but in the end, they all merge as one singular body of work that is mine. Creating is not a strategic plan, art is not a spreadsheet, freedom is not a sale; the tangible unknown is the essence of all progress. If we can think it, imagine it, then we can make it happen. The only barrier is how badly you desire it, and the conquering of fear.