Mud vs Mud: The Messy Creative Process
The snow is melting. I didn’t forget that I’d started a blog. I thought of it constantly and didn’t add a post to it. I made things instead. I’ve been working through things. Trying to figure out what to do about what—the paintings and other pieces, things made of sticks and dirt.
On the surface, my failure to blog didn’t help the plan—the part of the plan that hinges on taking consistent actions, that is—the idea that taking certain consistent actions will amount to, well, a realizing a variety of goals, none of which will matter much if what I’m putting in the soup is mud, which isn’t always a bad idea either. If I worked with mud consistently, I would know and know for sure what, if anything, I could or would make of it.
We Must Create: And Say It Again To Each Other Again
There are still tears in my eyes—tears of laughter. I just got off the phone with one of my Creative Fellows, a filmmaker from Los Angeles. His wife had already given him the *Greatest Advice of All Time, but he was calling his creative friends to vent anyway. Sometimes we need each other, us creatives. We need to say the same thing five thousand four hundred and fifty-nine times—to know it well enough for it to become something else. The dream is that it will expand—it will become the dream currently shadowed by fears, doubts, or stresses of whatever variety. I vented some, too.
Brother. We talked like brothers—fought over …