I looked through some old work today, went through some archive. I am cautiously but excitedly trying to conceive a new work. I am looking at what I have already created, as the root of new creation. After all these years of ‘inactivity’ it seems to still be there.
My sabbatical. My endless inconclusive research and experimentation. The feelings of failure for not creating/showing/exhibiting or promoting. My lack of inspiration. The mourning of my muse. The acceptance of that loss. The resignation into other forms of expression. Taking the more academic route.
But maybe I can have both. Maybe life moves on and I can be inspired in different ways. Maybe I can still make work firmly rooted on the ground, rather than floating around, riding whatever gust of wind happened to blow at the time. Contentment and control never coincided in inspiration for artistic endeavour for me. Not yet anyway. I still live in hope.