I got a new morning pages notebook. It has heavier paper, so that I can use a felt-tipped pen without it bleeding through. Intead, it bleeds out, just about a half a milimeter in every direction. I imagine it makes a hissing sound as it falls outward, like it would ina movie. Anyway, it's those little things that keep me comming back to the page. I'm just a simple creature after all.
In other news, I am working on an art gallery / AI lab in Second Life also called 'Who is Larson Broome?' I will let you know when it gets rolling... there are only two photos up on the wall right now. I'm in the Excellens region... if you are a Second Lifer, come find me.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Things are looking up. I wrote my morning pages (that's three pages of freehand writing) for the first time in a long while. I mostly went on about how guilty I should feel for meing away from the page for so long. But I realized that is just ego. Julia Cameron talks about "the wall" as a block we put up for ourselves about 2/3 of the way through a project. The part where we are crippled because we start caring about the product rather than the process. I think much of my artistic endeavors have hit their own "walls". This doesn't mean I have to backtrack to a more artisitic, idealised past. Rather, I have to check myself, my perfectionism, and my ego and get back into the thick of things.
If you are looking for inspiration, sometimes the best thing to do is stop worrying about it. Just get out there, put yourself on the line, and something will come to you. Get into survival mode.
I can't promise that I will become magically more artistic, or even that I can keep doing morning pages everyday, but I will be putting myself out on the line for it. Accepting that I've fallen off of it, and get back on. When you fall off the horse, you have to get back on. Or more pointedly, when you fall off the horse, you have to admit you are on the ground, dust yourself off, and then get back on the horse.
Here's to looking up from the ground.