I am a person who likes routines, for the most part. I get up at the same time every day, make coffee, and head to the studio for an hour before getting ready for my day job. I have done this every day for probably five years. It’s nice. It charges my batteries for the day. I paint, draw, meditate, read, write … whatever feels right that day; whatever is needed to soothe the soul.
Today however, my studio is torn apart. The floors are covered with muddy footprints and there are scraps of wood with bent nails protruding from them strewn about. All of my paintings have been removed and only a few pieces of furniture remain. It’s cold down there. It is no longer a fortress of solitude, but simply an access point for the foundation guys to get to the house’s footings so they can shore them up in preparation for the pending remodel upstairs.
Today I sit in my living room, also sparsely furnished as we have sold most of our stuff so that our belongings are more portable when the time comes to vacate for the remodel. I did whip out a quick drawing in a small sketchpad before sitting down to write this, but mostly I just have the overwhelming need for a new routine. The drawing is of two empty chairs facing toward me, like small children who have joined forces to ask their father for something. They sit there in silence with blank stares. What??
This time is good, right? I keep asking these things for affirmation. I mean, my painting was kind of going through a change anyway. The wrestling pictures are evidence of this. Maybe this time will provide the space I need to contemplate the next steps for my painting, without just thrashing about on the canvas. I can work things out in my head, and on sketch pads, and through writing down ideas before approaching the next series of paintings. It’s a good thing, right? Hmm. Yes. Breathe…
The new routine begins.
This time is good, right? I keep asking these things for affirmation. I mean, my painting was kind of going through a change anyway. The wrestling pictures are evidence of this. Maybe this time will provide the space I need to contemplate the next steps for my painting, without just thrashing about on the canvas. I can work things out in my head, and on sketch pads, and through writing down ideas before approaching the next series of paintings. It’s a good thing, right? Hmm. Yes. Breathe…
The new routine begins.
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I have always liked empty park benches, I hadn't thought how much I would like empty chairs. I really like your description. I think the empty park bench that I am thinking about is in the movie The way We Were with Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand. It was a photograph...about the only think I remember about that movie...I just know that Barbra is in it...so if this isn't the name of the movie I know it is one of hers.
ReplyDeleteLooks to me that this is a great moment in your life...clearing away the debre and making room for more creative energy.
Set up a routine that can be carried out wherever you are. It's probably more important now than before, since my experience with construction is that it messes with your head and creativity more than even than your physical space. So find that ritual that puts you where you need to be, every day.
ReplyDeleteI like your chairs, too. They are staring at you.
I have never had a routine like that. I am envious and can see why to disturb it would be unsettling.
ReplyDeleteI do think we are always looking and categorizing the world in visual ways. Sometimes looking and thinking is just as valuable and crashing around on a canvas. A fallow field. I like the drawing. It's an invitation, a question, a conversation.