Quite literally, my inspiration has run dry. Kaput, drained, diminished, depleted, dwindled... whatever synonym you want to call label it! And also quite literally, I feel like yelling "what's going on!?" out of my window. I had assumed Art A-level would be the perfect opportunity to express myself and be free after the pressure's of English Lit and History. Instead I feel this great weight whenever I open my art book to another white a3 page. And I just think urgh. How is one supposed to fill every crevice with expression when they have nothing to express?
I pick up a paint brush yet the paint dries before it even makes contact with the page; I pick up a pencil yet the lead breaks at the first signs of pressure... I then I think, perhaps it isn't the tools I am using but the actual motion of picking them up. Inspiration is a gift. I wish I could explain why art just isn't exciting me anymore. Sometimes the unexplainable has to remain unexplained to exist.
Concepts. I like concepts. I like conceptual thinking. I like thinking. And I realise now that my favourite thing about art is the way it makes you think. I want to be given a topic and think of the most pretentious, ambiguous idea that ties together a myriad of thoughts like "constellations" and think. Now the irony is, to get through this process of lacking inspiration I am writing a blog post. Writing a blog post. If you presented me with a blank sheet of paper and a lined piece of paper, I would immediately take the lined. If you gave me a word and asked me to write or draw, I would immediately take the pen.
And its so frustrating to have lost something which you used to find effortless.
I wish I could say something positive here. I am going to carry on with art..
Remember its okay not to be okay
-J
*picture from Tumblr*
