Creativity is like a fickle lover. Just when you think you have it figured out you realize you know nothing about it at all. It's like waking up to an empty bed after a night of passion. Creativity comes and goes according to its own agenda. We are nothing more than conduits. The best we can do is show up for it. We certainly cannot control it.
Lately I've been staring at my body of work, some 50,000 images, and finding nothing. I've been gawking at my idle camera and it looks back at me—just the way my cat does when I talk to her. It seems to know that I want to engage with it but there a disconnect. So the camera sits. Maybe I'll recharge its battery today.
I suppose that there are times when the creative muses want some rest. As with my camera, maybe there is some internal battery that needs recharging. The wise person would get up and walk away or meditate or simply change venues for refreshment. I tend to sit and try to force things, a strategy that has thus far not worked so well.
Monday mornings are particularly hard for the creatively-blocked artist. I rise, knowing that a new week is about to begin. And so I go into the studio to see what shows up. Nothing. But, then I find an image that seems to resonate with today's energy. Things open...just a crack. Fussing with the photo I find more. And now, here it is. It is an image of a shadowy figure staring into the mystery—a perfect image for murky Monday mornings.
And so creativity teases me again. It tantalizes me with possibilities. As I drink the last bit of coffee sludge from my cup, I am resolved to find some answers this week. Maybe this will be the week of creative breakthroughs. Or maybe creativity is just toying with me again.