After I wrote and published my last post (Doneness, 8/6/12), I realized it was a cleverly disguised complaint about uncertainty. At least I thought it was clever--I admit was pretty enamored with the metaphor. And disguised even from me!
But an artist complaining about uncertainty... sort of like an Inuit complaining about the cold. Huh. Comes with the territory. The whole process of creating is a dance between knowing and not knowing, the seen and the unseen--or as yet unsee-able. But in a weird way it's helpful for me to complain and then catch it, to see what I'm doing. I see more clearly the places where I'm still working, where the fear comes up.
That's really what it's about, I think. Fear. Not knowing, thinking I'm not up to the task, not good enough, not whatever enough. Fill in the blank. Then seeing it, and going back to work. No need to fret, just go back to work. It's only if I don't go back to work that the fear wins out.
But an artist complaining about uncertainty... sort of like an Inuit complaining about the cold. Huh. Comes with the territory. The whole process of creating is a dance between knowing and not knowing, the seen and the unseen--or as yet unsee-able. But in a weird way it's helpful for me to complain and then catch it, to see what I'm doing. I see more clearly the places where I'm still working, where the fear comes up.
That's really what it's about, I think. Fear. Not knowing, thinking I'm not up to the task, not good enough, not whatever enough. Fill in the blank. Then seeing it, and going back to work. No need to fret, just go back to work. It's only if I don't go back to work that the fear wins out.