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The need to create / 27 June 2013

White paper on white canvas, curls, cones and tubes assembled to represent people the piece relies on the play of light to make visible a central wheelborne figure flanked by two standing figures.

detail from Including: presence, absence

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Recently I've had difficulty living with torn-to-pieces-hood. I wept readily. And this in spite of some blessing of sun, some lightness of clear blue sky, and momentary gentle warmth seeping through my skin to delight my bones.
Waking through the night in a restless tangle of cotton shroud, I was tempted towards tantrums, until reminding myself that these are the good old days and I am not just surviving. I have a life!

I've not been well and this, on top of the demands of disability, has been exhausting.

The taken-for-granted stuff that forms my daily physical challenge got tangled up in emotional depths that were a bit too roller-coaster for comfort. Spooky stuff rattled my marbles. Creative ideas shimmied and teased just beyond reach of motivation because I was holding my breath, listening for something other than sound, feeling for something other than touch. All of my focus was occupied in a dimension I didn't even know existed.

Ground control to ... who? There were too many words stampeding to get out of my head like there was no-one in control. And the only possible resolution was to wait.

I attempted to release the words in some order, glimpsed a glittering fusion that mulled, that simmered on the point of tipping. The sense of agitation was building. And the weeping.

I need to make art, I need it to survive, especially now. And I need it to find my way in the world.

The unwell is temporary, even though it has been draining my resources for almost six months, an unquantifiable hindrance that both drives me towards exploring the bad bits and seeks to prevent me from getting anything together at all.

This shit has become a recognisable part of my creative process and right now I wonder why the hell I do it; maybe I could wait until I am well, but I need to make art.

And sometimes I just need to work with the stuff that scares me.

Where would I be without making?
What darkness would engulf me without
the risk, the challenge, of creative
possibility? The dream of clarity.

And the deadline, reason
to pursue my need with purpose.
The blog, the presentation, the
exhibition, poster and the book:
ways to travel without
getting totally lost.

Ladders poking out of the snake pits
layered beneath sunshimmer water,
forest fern secrets, musical meadows
and warm ripe raspberries.