I received a lovely note from my friend Zhenecka. It came in the form of a comment on an art card I made some time ago. And it reminded me of something that I’ve been pushing away to the far corners of my mind.
My art supplies have been gathering dust. I haven’t sketched or come up with any excitingly original ideas in ages. I wonder why the bloom has faded as much as it has these past months. In fact, it’s more than faded, it’s hanging by a sinew and even the bees won’t touch it. What’s changed, and why haven’t I been as excited about this stuff as I used to be?
I’ve been taking the easy route and sending out more mail via postcardx than I have in a long time. But I have to ask myself, is it possible to force oneself to be more creative? When the muse is lost, where does she go?
I’ll tell you where it’s not:
- it’s not in the television set. And it’s definitely not in shows like ANTM or House. And it’s not on the evening news with Peter Mansbridge.
- it’s not in books, newspapers or magazines
- it’s not in blogging (reading or writing), idle surfing, or Facebook.
I’m going to eliminate all of these from my diet for a week, starting tonight. (!)
I know what you’re thinking. There are so many great books, magazines, blogs, television shows and newspaper articles that are worth reading! And it’s true, but those things aren’t helping me develop my own creative ideas.
This week I AM allowing myself:
- work-related Internet use only (this is going to be tough)
- pen and notebook
- pencils and sketchbook
- music and radio
- the camera
This morning Mark woke up and asked if we were doing the media-free thing. What’s this we, I wondered. Sometimes I have a feeling that he kindly tolerates my whims but secretly thinks I’m crazy, that is, when he’s not trying to dissuade me, like when I suggested we go without the car for a month to see what it’s like. I thought this was one of those times I’d be on my own. I was barely awake and he was practically bursting. His sudden enthusiasm surprised me.
“So we’re cutting out TV, right?” he asked.
“Ummm.”
“And mindless Internet surfing?”
“Uh huh.”
“What about reading?”
“No reading.”
“Not even books?”
“No. The only thing I’m planning on reading is this,” I said, pointing to the print out of Kubla Khan on my nighttable. (I’m memorizing it, but that’s the subject of a whole other post.)
“That frees up a lot of time you know,” he said thoughtfully.
Of course I knew. I had no idea where he was going with this. I was already planning what I was going to do with this extra time: long walks (last night I did a brisk 3.3 km), periods alone with a coffee and a sketchbook, painting, bubble baths, long-distance calls, letters to friends, maybe some laps at the local pool … and I was even reserving room in my head for those pesky (and much less romantic) things like cleaning out the fridge and washing the floor. (Really!)
“I know what we can do,” said Mark, interrupting my reverie. “WE CAN CLEAN OUT THE BASEMENT!”
“…”
“We need to do it anyway, right?”
“Er, yeah. But you do realize this was all supposed to be about MY MUSE, not the basement, right?”
Anyway, as you can imagine, I lost that argument. So amid the paintbrushes and bits of paper you can imagine me heaving cardboard boxes around a dark room and sorting piles of papers/clothing/etc.
So as of right now I’m officially going to turn off, tune out, and drop out. I’ve promised myself that I’m going to do it for a week. But I have to admit that I really don’t know if I can do it. Could you? Are you willing to join me and report back next week? It would help to know I wasn’t alone! :)
Over and out,
a.