This piece has been lingering on my boards for about 4 months. Every morning the sun streaks across it to spotlight the fact that it hasn't been resolved yet.
Recently someone asked me "what compels you to do this art?" and I answered in a very vague manner:
I want to let the unknown in.
Yesterday I was reading a great blog called brain pickings and they had an article about Alan Lightman and his book Sense of the Mysterious. His explanation about the mysterious state of creative inspiration compared it to planing while sailing. He says it this way:
"…every once in a while the hull lifts out of the water, and the drag goes instantly to near zero. It feels like a great hand has suddenly grabbed hold and flung you across the surface like a skimming stone."
I compare the feeling to what it must feel like to take flight, or launch into space, a sensation that takes you away from here and now consciousness.
Gathering, huddling, blind witnesses
Is that what I am after? An addictive search for otherness?
For me, answers to mysteries only come after exhaustive exploration. And still they can be mysteries. Awe paddles me forward so I tinker around the edges until I am ready to jump in. Showing up, head down with full focus, moves a piece forward. My theory is you just have to show up with intention day after day until you are free enough to feel the wave. Letting go of preconceptions rather than allowing a piece to breathe its own air is one of my many challenges.
Silent witness - obstruction.