Creative Blocks To Build On

"It was no longer quiet as the rhythm of my hands moving over paper sang to the parts of me that had gone dormant."

Through a series of strange occurrences I found myself in the company of a  fortune teller. This is not something I typically seek out but after my loquacious friend struck up a conversation with a stranger in an Italian Market in Manhattan, it led to my introduction with this psychic. 

She insisted on imparting her wisdom, which I politely listened to. As it was impromptu and pro bono, I saw no harm in letting the woman speak her piece. After a few vague remarks she gave me the advice to draw again. I had lost my drawing practice along the way and was frustrated by her assumption that my departed practice was of my own volition.

Shortly after our encounter I found myself in the shop of a friend who was looking to clear out space from her storage. It was within the forgotten mess of clutter that I found an entanglement of wooded parts,  propped up amongst other miscellaneous things. Sifting through other pieces of furniture, I made my way to this sighing wooden plank. I was informed that it was an antique drafting table from 1910. 

Unfolding its limbs, I constructed it in the middle of my room. Under the weight of dusty potential, the image of this exhausted table mirrored my dormant creative practice. The words of the fortune teller transposed themselves over this desk. I couldn’t leave it in this state.  I could feel the grain of the wood breathe deeply as I removed the dust from its crevices. 

I stared at the drafting table for days, begging for it to whisper inspirational musings. I suppose I figured there would be some form of reciprocity for my rescue but instead the silence became unnerving. Frustrated with its hollow response, I shoved it in the corner and stopped giving it any mind.

Sunlight spilled over this desk tracing the scratches and marks, denoting its history.  Etched within its grooves, a map of past creatives was illuminated. I bought a pad of newsprint to place over this foundation of predecessors and accompanied it with a piece of charcoal. This arrangement remained untouched for days.

During a sleepless night I drifted to this table and began feverishly drawing. It was no longer quiet as the rhythm of my hands moving over paper sang to the parts of me that had gone dormant.

When I woke up I looked at what I had drawn to find that it was barely comprehensible. Despite this, the entanglement of lines I had filled the page with brought me solace and a deeper understanding  of my creative block settled within me.

I had thought that my block was something that I would have to lift to set aside or push with all of my might. Weighed down by fatigue the block had become insurmountable. I now understood that the answer was to chip away at it, one freely drawn line at a time.

Each time I passed the drawing table I would make a couple of marks on the open pad of the newsprint until I started setting aside fifteen minutes to scribble each morning.   

"Sunlight spilled over this desk tracing the scratches and marks, denoting its history.  Etched within its grooves, a map of past creatives was illuminated."

This table remains  set up in the corner of the room with several sketchbooks, botanicals, newsprint etc ready to capture any moment of creativity that sparks throughout my day. 

I launched my first instagram page for my freelance art business in 2015. After a decade of watching the algorithm shift and change, I have become more aware of the toll it takes to keep up with its cycle. This newly developed slow practice has inspired me to open this page as an online creative refuge.

As I rebuild my creative practice outside of my shop and business, I look forward to sharing these projects at a slower pace, one pencil mark, one brush stroke, one binding at a time. 

"I had thought that my block was something that I would have to lift to set aside or push with all of my might. Weighed down by fatigue the block had become insurmountable. I now understood that the answer was to chip away at it, one freely drawn line at a time."