Very early morning.
Gray light just breaking through the trees, birds tweeting and twirping awake in the branches and a haze in the air as the slightly dewy ground gives up the precious moisture to the warm air.
I’m tired, having woke much too early but I’m in the studio now and I’m readying to go to work finishing up a handful of work for my show. I’m at the end of a creative cycle and I’m usually a bit fatigued and, as a result, more susceptible to worries and concerns about what direction I will next take my work. The work I’m finishing now is basically done, all creative decisions completed, so the die is basically cast for this work. My mind has moved to what comes next and how I will get there.
I feel now the need to push myself in some way, break from the safety zone of what I know so far as technique and style are concerned and trust my instincts in maneuvering in a new territory. Maybe it’s a new material or a material used in a different way. Maybe it’s a new look on the surface– I have a deep seated desire to let strokes break free from restraint and show their ragged edges and energy. Slashes.
Maybe it’s a new subject, a new icon on which to focus my attention, or simply dropping representation and letting the abstract elements take over.
I don’t know. At the end of one of these cycles, it’s not a matter of how it changes. It only matters that it changes.
I feel fortunate to have my work to express the end and beginning of these cycles of energy that culminate with the need to change, to emerge somehow differently. Dealing with them in real life, without the use of painted icons to serve as the avatar for the expression my own life’s twists and turns, has not always been smooth sailing. But transferring the need to transform, in some way, from one’s actual life to a substituted surface of paint has been a blessing for me, if not always an easy one.
With paint, I usually find my way through the shadows and tangle of thought and emerge in light.
Changed. New.
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The painting at the top is titled Emerge the Light and is part of my upcoming show, New Days, at the West End Gallery in Corning. It is a work on paper, a 4″ by 30″ image that is matted and framed out to 10″ by 36″.
Redtree Times 
Great post! I too ride these cycles of creativity and fatigue. I think most artists/creatives do (a bold generalization, but one I’ve found is pretty true). It’s how we manage them that makes the difference between growth and stagnation. I think you’re onto something by shaking things up.
Turn yourself loose – let the strokes slash across the medium – doesn’t have to be paper or canvas. What about a lovely (or not so lovely) rock, piece of wood…scratch and claw in the dirt. Or be dreamy and soft; almost feminine. Maybe work using your less dominant hand. I love the possibilities.
My most recent art teacher handed out pieces of coral and slate to our class for sketching. New materials – things we didn’t really consider pens. He encouraged us to hold them differently, roll them around in our hands, find different grips, strokes, and pressures – maybe even try different ink or watercolor.
Give yourself permission to be some other guy instead of “that tree guy” and turn the brain off. Might be surprised at what emerges. I’d love to see the results.
And, yes, can’t wait to check out “New Days.” I’m hoping to make it to the opening.
-Bonnie
Thanks, Bonnie.
There is a counterpoint to change, however, in thta you can’t change your true nature, who you really are. I wrote a bit about this, having seen something that made me think. Here’s a link to an earlier post: https://redtreetimes.wordpress.com/2009/06/10/it-is-what-it-is/
As much as I cycle and change, I am never far from who I really was at the start…
I’ve seen the creative process described as an arrow, driving into the future. I’ve seen it described as a circle to be closed or as stairs leading “onward and upward” to more complete expression.
I’ve come to think of my own process as a slinky, that wonderful childhood toy. Hold one up, and there you have it – a spiral that keeps us circling as we travel, but always a little farther down, a little deeper.
I love the way the image joins continuity and change – it feels like the cycles you describe.
Guess I’ll slink off to start the day! 😉
I am excited to see where you go Gary! Loved the post. It captured how I feel about writing at times…
Thanks for the link. Another great read.
I agree! I’m pretty much the same girl who picked up a camera at 13 years of age and began taking innumerable photos of her pets, sunsets, flowers, wildlife, rambles through the woods with Dad … The technique, skillset, and equipment have evolved over the years, but I’m still driven by the same basic need to share the wonder I see in details so often overlooked by others.
Yet, I still feel the need to challenge myself, try something new, change things up so I don’t become stale or (gasp!) boring.
Most of these experiments are never seen by others, but still reside on my backup drive. I flip back through them when I feel lulls in creativity or energy. Sometimes they give me a boost, sometimes not so much.
All this probably speaks more to my own feeling that I’m still developing as an artist. Your work is strong and confident; your voice is clear – something I aspire to and am inspired by.
Thanks for the great conversation and wisdom. Always makes me think … and that’s a good thing.
Have a wonderful, inspiring day!