Last night I was avoiding cleaning my studio.
It’s been a cluttered mess lately and while a bit of untidiness may be the sign of a creative mind (or something like that), it does reach a point where enough is enough.
One avoidance technique was browsing through my entire blog history to see whether I was actually making any positive progress as I’ve professed to be attempting.
And I stumbled upon this picture and post from September of 2015.
I’ve had these little canvases for a while. I bought them for another project that hasn’t happened yet. They were just sitting on my shelf and looked lonely. I’ve started just painting them – and then repainting them – and then layering some more paint. Now I’ve started sticking on the dried paint scrapings from my desk. They are becoming quite heavy and textural.
Why? I don’t know yet. I suppose they’ll let me know when it is time…
But sometimes, I’m not sure that I’m an artist at all. But my middle daughter says that I am an artist and she should know. She will be graduating with her Bachelor of Fine Arts in December. That makes her for sure a “real artist”.
She tells me to make what I enjoy. To do what I like to do and not to worry about it all so much.
I worry nonetheless.
And I procrastinate.
Guess what is now sitting on my desk again?
Somehow (of their own accord) they hid themselves in a box on a shelf in the studio only to reappear as I contemplated a Spring decluttering session for the month of April.
I have made a decision.
It is time – whether those canvases are ready or not.
They shall be turned into some semblance of a creative project that may even resemble art by the end of the weekend or they shall be gone from this house.
And just maybe, I will then dedicate the rest of April working on the rest of the half-started or half-finished projects (depending on how you look at it) hiding themselves in the dusty dark corners of the studio.
And that’s a definitive maybe.
But I really do believe it is time.