Abandoned Tennis Ball | Mark Lindsay

Every artist has periods of frenzied creativity, times when the work pours out faster than it can be processed. After such a period comes the inevitable, fallow gap of nothingness. One stares at a blank canvas, a blank piece of paper, a blank screen, a blank world. There simply isn't anything there.

There was a time when guilt would make things worse for me. “I should be painting!” I'd scold myself. That would just exacerbate the situation. Entering a studio in that kind of mood will only result in darkness. Sometimes one must simply accept an unproductive period as a time of rejuvenation. Forcing things only results in unpleasantness. A long walk is better than brooding in a studio in which hangs a white canvas on easel, looming like a giant insect.

As you may have guessed, I am between assignments. I am in limbo. Sometimes my long, desperate walks will result in a photo, like the one presented here. That was from another in-between period of some months ago. I remember feeling then how I do now—I found the photo, tweaked it and decided to show it. It has that lonesome feeling to it. There are days when I do, indeed, feel like an abandoned tennis ball.

New work is on the way and I know it will arrive at exactly the right time. Right now I simply need to sit back and watch things for a bit.