The artist is reawakening

Its fascinating to realize that the imagination expressed in dreams is all conjured, or at least I believe it is conjured. Last night was filled with artists. All kinds of artists. Ceramists, painters, sculptors. I recall clearly one artist capturing the spirit of her subject by using only a few simple strokes of black. It was if she had boiled the essence of her subject down to its primal elements. Four curved shapes representing the body and in comparison to the actual subject. It was perfect.

I created an artificial history of of street in Berkeley that was famous for pottery and artist studios. The street was lined with huge pots and these hippie women were holding their clay covered hands out as people walked by to touch them. These women were called the clay mothers. I walked by and ran my fingers through hone womans dry clay covered hands feeling her energy intermingle with mine. I felt connected.

I have been struggling with the idea of a new painting and was planning on making a grid on a canvas to accurately capture a photo I had taken and recreate it with precision. I found myself teaching a class of children this process which failed miserably. The children did not want to be constrained by grids and wanted to be free to do what they wanted and paint what they felt. I realize now in my waking state that I am struggling because I am putting limitations on my creativity. I need to let it out like a scream. Just do it and not analyze it. Be free.

The comedic moment came when Cher broke into the class singing about not being so rigid, she was pushy and insistent but compelling and entertaining at the same time. Maybe I am just a drag queen trying to emerge from her thick cocoon. Whatever that means, I will continue to move closer to my creative energy and embrace all of me as I am. I know that nobody reads this blog but it helps to get out and write it down.