Sometimes the creative drive takes a quiet tone, action retreats within, and the outer appearance is of stillness. The paints remain in their jars and tubes, canvases gather dust, and it seems nothing is happening.
This winter I have not painted at all. I have deliberately busied my overactive mind with huge learning tasks, partly because I needed to acquire the new skills and partly just to keep my mind from monkeying where it had no business going.
We are a mentally driven culture and the conscious thinking mind has its distinct limitations that are often ignored. To create in the fullest possible manner, the conscious mind has to take a back seat to allow inner inspiration to arise in its own way and its own timing.
Handing the mind a plateful of tasks suited to its abilities can be like handing an obtrusive toddler a pacifier. Sometimes that is just the best thing to do.
This has allowed a time of incubation, such as I have been experiencing this winter. I have wanted to paint, but these other tasks were what I really needed to do. I had my own inner sense of timing I have honored, sometimes to the distress of those around me.
I could feel something stirring deep within me and I have worked with clearing the internal obstacles to allow it to emerge. I knew a big change in my painting was quietly preparing to birth, but I had no idea what the new work would hold.
That changed this morning. My dreams have been intense for weeks, the subterranean rumblings are most visible in them. Soon after I awoke, I suddenly saw my new direction with the paint.
I cannot tell you how excited I am! Color and light beckons with the siren song of my creative muse. I can see new shapes and forms blending and shapeshifting into a whole new series of paintings.
As always, I know my next paintings will be my best ones, and I am energized and enthusiastic to get on with it. I have to complete a couple of computer projects that are close to wrapping up and then I will open my palette and let my muse sing on the canvas again.
I can hardly wait…
Copyright © Lexi Sundell 2008. All Rights Reserved.