In the last month or so I've become afraid of my own studio really.
I used to love descending down the steps, starting each morning with cup of coffee in hand, the sun streaming through the windows and yesterday’s projects in various stages of completions welcomed me back. Each day was full of endless possibilities. The chart of my day was unknown and the path it would take was up to the whim of my creative mind and the whole thing thrilled me and truly filled my heart.
After my little spill however and the all too long wait for healing, the studio greets me with a stack of unfinished creations, attempted then painfully defeated projects, winter décor, a layer of dust and a head full of swirling “what if’s” and the endless list “should have’s”. It makes what should be a place of creativity a place that is instead more sullen and the endless circle of attempts, pain, and frustration have me feeling lost when I am there. It’s an odd and an uncomfortable feeling. I have lost touch with my studio. It’s been so long, I don't know who I am when I'm there.
So today I am MAKING myself return. Brace on, second pot of coffee on deck, positive thinking cap on, fears pushed aside, dragging my ass kicking and screaming, all be damned, I am going down those steps and actually starting this process once again. Wish me luck … here goes nothing!