I’d like to say I’ve been too busy to keep updating this blog.  And, actually, if I were to look at the whole of the past 6 months, there could be such an argument to be made, as there has been quite a bit going on.  Truth is, however, that increments of time, small but useful, over that period certainly could have been wrangled and tossed in this direction.  More difficult than securing time, often, is securing the inspiration, or perhaps more accurately, the nerve to suppose what I see and say has relevance to the world.  I am beginning to think that relevance does not matter- if I spend my time wondering if anyone but myself is gonna give a shit (and, trust me, I do), I will find myself frozen (and, trust me, I do).  So, that leaves us with inspiration, which, coincidentally, is what this blog is supposed to be about.

            Recently, I read a quote from Chuck Close about inspiration:  “Inspiration is for amateurs.  The rest of us just show up and get to work.”  He goes on to say “if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and something else that you reject will push you in another direction.  Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive.  You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.”  That describes what I have been doing lately- waiting for inspiration, rather than going out in search of it.  I need to get my hands dirty, to explore my thoughts instead of trying desperately to figure them out.  I need to play and see where it takes me.

            Did a commercial job for a great client the other day, which involved food.  We had wrapped and I was beginning to clean up the kitchen.  On its way to the trash can, the red onion skin I held in my hand protested.  The manner in which the light struck its shiny surface told me I was not done with it.  The black velvet came out of the closet and for the next hour or so I investigated the beauty of scraps that came very close to being disposed of.  I was inspired (there’s that word again) to continue the next day with the rejected portion of my breakfast, and their skins got me thinking about our skins and our possessions, and what we leave behind in our lives.  Seems a bit reminiscent of the “Outside/In” series I did some years ago, and in fact, there may be a tie in somewhere.

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          Where will this lead?  I don’t know.  Perhaps nowhere.  But at least, my hands are dirty.

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