50 Shades of Gray

I did not draw that! It's the cover of my sketchbook. :)

No, this is not a post about my hair. :)

It's a post about this current creative block from hell I've been experiencing, and how I'm just plain tired of it.

I'm sure you're tired of it, too.

All my whining and wailing and gnashing of teeth during this time has lost me some followers. And I can't blame them for jumping ship, as I wouldn't want to read my negative postings either....

So although writing seems to help me sort out some things, I've been trying to focus on this issue without sharing too much.

I've also been actively in search of the Muse instead of waiting around for it to show up (or worse: scaring it away with all my desperate begging).

Recently I wondered if some uninterrupted time spent in the aisles of an art supply store might be inspirational. No hurries! Just the smells of paints and papers and pencils. Like shopping for school supplies only better. And my visit there just so happened to coincide with Valentine's Day and the release of the new movie '50 Shades of Grey.' (Don't ask: haven't seen it, don't want to, haven't read the book either, don't have to explain why.)

On purpose, I planted myself specifically in the Paper-and-Pencils Department and almost immediately took an interest in a sketchbook with pages of gray. I found some other colored paper items, too, as well as white pencils and gel pens. And upon seeing that I appeared to be even marginally excited again about some art supplies, James bought them for me for Valentine's Day. (Can't love this guy enough.)

Then I noticed that my new Strathmore gray-toned sketchbook came in a pad of 50 pages. Hmmmm.

And this gave me a lightbulb moment.

Since that time I've been pretty much up to my elbows and eyelids in a little series I'm calling '50 Shades of Fae.' Tiny netsuke-sized drawings of fantasy faces. On gray paper.

And -- I'm adding COLOR. I know! I can't believe it either.

I'm almost two dozen faces into the collection already and I hate to step away from it! I've been so focused that I've occasionally forgotten to eat or exercise, which probably isn't a good thing, really, although it IS when I think about all the times my childhood self got lost for long hours in a sketchbook and had to be pried away from it for the important things. Like school. Or supper....

And seriously -- it's been so dang long since I felt like this about drawing. The giddy, childlike feeling of hurry-up-and-get-your-chores-done-so-you-can-sit-with-a-sketchbook-and-a-pencil-and-a-Charlie-Chan-movie! I want to bathe in this feeling and roll around in it. I want to wear it.

The whole thing's not without its drawbacks, of course. Most of the time I leave out the get-your-chores-done part (I've always been an instant-gratification kind of girl....). Plus, sitting for long hours isn't as comfy as it was back in my youth. And let's not forget that substituting a bag of mini-marshmallows and a beer for my supper takes its toll immediately.

Still....!

DRAWING!

On a whim (and to hold myself accountable) I've been sharing my daily progress on social media. The feedback I'm getting has all been positive so far. Mostly because I'm sure my friends are just flippin' happy to have me creating instead of whining.

Some have asked me what my plans are for this series. Honestly? I haven't a clue.... It's too soon. Plus, the idea of making this dipped-in-gold happy circumstance be about money somehow just rubs me the wrong way.

So for now I'm going to keep thoughts of money out of the Big Picture. Because I don't like thoughts about money. And also because I'm having too much fun focusing on the Little Picture(s).

For now, this right here is a '50 Shades' I can get excited about. :)
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Searching, Struggling, Scribbling

I'm still struggling with The Block. Probably the biggest creative block of my life. And I hate it. And I suspect I've bored you silly with it, which I think accounts for why I've blogged so infrequently since my Trip-of-a-Lifetime-Epic-Dream-Come-True Adventure.

But there's no getting around the fact that a big part of me has gone AWOL since my return. It's the part that exists between my imagination and my hands. Maybe it's my shadow. And even though months have passed since my Adventure I'm still trying to catch that elusive connection and sew it back onto myself. But it's hiding somewhere in Derbyshire and doesn't want to be found....

Life continues on in spite of Adventures, and things have been rollercoastery here since my return. So much so, that I've yet to nail down a lot of what I experienced there. And then I lost almost all of the photos I took! And then I grieved. Losing my shadow just seemed like part of the trauma. And it wasn't until well after Fest that I began to really worry about it.

As always, it helps to write, but drawing still seems out of the question. Why, exactly?? I wish I knew.... I begin a sketch and want to wreck it right away. I feel like a toddler with a big fat crayon and little clumsy hands, like I haven't the skills to execute all the Amazing that I see in my head.

This has to be overcome. Now. Months have passed! Folks depend on me. I have work to do!

I promised myself I'd begin this new year with some attitude. Tell myself that I won't stand for this any longer, no excuses, pick up that pencil and make a mark, scribble if that's what it takes! And I might just find out that what's been struggling to surface is the experience of my Big Adventure. There has to be a reason my shadow is still far away, right? Losing my mind/hand connection immediately upon my return from England can't be a coincidence....

And maybe by stepping off the rollercoaster here and focusing intently on my memories of there I can reconnect my two halves and feel like myself again....

Myself. Only different. Because Me-Before-England doesn't exist any longer. And I have yet to really try on and walk around in Me-After....

*blink*

(Sounds of crickets chirping)

Well, huh....

This could be interesting.
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Adrift in the Space Between

Courtesy of Grandiloquent Word of the Day

I caught the clock switch itself to 11:11 today and I made my wish.

I wished that I'd get my groove back....

Since my return, I've repeatedly sat down to paper and pencil, and -- nothing.

Nada.

Zip, zero, zilch....

Not a doodle. Not even a word....

*sigh*

It's not that England wasn't supremely inspirational. (Holy hedgehogs, was it inspirational!) And it's not like I've really had time to draw since touching down again in Minnesota. But time is critical now. Fest is just minutes away and I've got art to create! LOTS of it.

But if shutting down and immersing myself in my memories is so important, can't I do both?

Apparently not.... I've tried....

My big plan was to bring art supplies with me to the UK. Sketch on the plane, do a drawing-a-day, photograph my quickly scribbled impressions and share them with you via social media. Didn't happen. There was no TIME, for one thing. Paper and pencil felt foreign to me, too, like trying to draw with a rock on the water.

And you saw how well I kept in touch.... Even if technology had cooperated, nothing I did -- write, draw, even photograph -- made sense to me. It was all so feeble and disappointing and not a bit like the amazing extraordinariness that I was trying to capture! It was as though some strange force field was scrambling my skills and preventing me from expressing my experience. And since my return I've yet to figure out how to shut the damn thing down....

I've had creative blocks before, and I've worked them out. But this still feels different. Foreign. Like more than just a block. A wall, maybe. Something BIG. Something not-see-overable....

This morning I opened an email from My Inner Pilot Light (go here, sign up, do it!, you'll thank me). It mentions the magickal place it calls The Space Between:

"...between where you were last and where you are going. It’s important to stop here to get crystal clear on some specifics before you can continue on."

I doubt that my creative block is what it's referring to, exactly, but the poke I felt as I read it seemed important....

And then just moments later I was gifted the word 'hiraeth' -- it came at me from multiple sources at once. Friends used it in a sentence, shared it in a comment, and then it came up in my Facebook feed. The site Grandiloquent Word of the Day (follow the blog HERE, 'like' the Facebook page HERE, do it!, you'll thank me again) gives this definition:

"A Welsh word that has no direct English translation. The University of Wales, Lampeter attempts to define it as homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over the lost or departed. It is a mix of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness, and the earnest desire for the past."

And that's when an a-ha moment began somewhere in my very busy head. I've yet to sort it out and make sense of it, but it's getting clearer as I write about it now. I am still processing, obviously. And missing the magickal heck out of my English visit.

But I can't just recall it fondly while otherwise forcing myself to get back to Minnesota Normal -- frantically cleaning, weeding, unpacking, grandbugsitting, fill-in-the-blanking, all while trying to force myself to be creative, too. Time to seriously unplug and immerse myself. Time to imagine floating on a still and glassy sea, adrift in the gently rocking boat of the Space Between -- where nothing can happen, really, until the tide comes in again.

Makes sense. Plus just imagining it now feels safe and comforting and right, like it's all part of the plan.

And if it helps, who's to say that's not the case?
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