Art Attack – THE MUSE
Birthed creek side in sand and stone. Stoic in the winter sun. A rock atop the gravel bed, unable, to weigh or keep her down.
I’ve discovered that staring at a blank page or computer screen is really no different than staring at the blank canvas – waiting, hoping, praying for inspiration to strike; that creative “Cialis moment” when the Muse appears, passion returns, and the imagination flows – and flows before deadline.
For some unknown-to-me reason I’ve been driven to create since an early age, my Gemini self exploring different mediums along the way – acting, painting, print-making, assemblage work, screen-printing, photography, and writing.
While the mediums may differ, I’ve noticed the creative process is essentially the same. And, trying to describe that creative process is near impossible.
The Muse, or what I call divine inspiration, can occur at any time and often comes in the form of a friend or total stranger, a trip to a museum, a dream, an editor’s encouraging words or the exquisite patina on the lovely face of an antique plaster bust.
It was love at first sight. Placed along the row of tables, she stood out among the mundane objects set out for bid. It was an ESSA silent auction and there was another in the room smitten with her beauty. Alas, outbid, she was not meant to be mine that evening.
That ESSA benefit was three years ago, and the stranger who won my object of desire has since become a good friend and strong supporter of my art.
My new friend kept the antique bust for two years before generously gifting it to me more than a year ago – a gesture, profoundly moving, inspiring and bonding.
My Muse was always intended to be photographed, and last week, near the end of a perfect winter’s day, we found a spot along my creek bed, a large brick-shaped rock close by.
Although sometimes elusive, I have over the years learned to trust that inspiration will come when needed, not without battle and sometimes right before deadline.
It was an interesting chain of events for me last week – this Muse. The object and friend inspiring the photograph that spawned the poem, which in turn, created these words for this week’s blank page. Thank you, Marty.