Artsy fartsy

Lately in my life I have had a mix of feeling completely lost and uninspired along with periods of feeling overwhelmed with insight, inspiration and newness.  Lately?  Who am I kidding, that mix is my life summed up.  Perhaps what brings me back to this blog after two and a half years is finally coming to terms with the fact that I have to get off my ass and commit to something again.  I have to begin to search again.  I have to reignite my urge to push boundaries(something I am a self-trained expert at, just ask my parents).

One of my faves ever.  Bogotá, Colombia.
(not the artist from the documentary)

Between last night and this morning I watched a Hulu documentary about a street artist who's art I have seen and appreciated over decades of my life.  My first of many light bulb moments was that I had never stopped to register that there was a creative genius with a tremendous story behind the images.  The documentary left me with a myriad of emotions from enlightenment to frustration to acceptance; acceptance that I have to stop sitting on my ass, numbing out with TV streaming, and start doing what comes so naturally to me.  I need to tap back in to that part of me that woke up when I was an angry 16-year- old with no other outlet.  I need to create my own art.  I need to honor my own gift...I need to write.  And write.  And write, etc.

This year has been tough for me.  I am living somewhere that I am enamored with, but never planned to be.  I'm not close with anyone here, I am lukewarm about my employment situation, I am achingly far from anyone I can truly lean on and New England's North Atlantic winter is on the way.  However the most pressing part is that I am feeling a choking feeling when it comes to my self expression.  Literally feeling like I'm being choked since arriving here, a tightness in my throat.  And it's not allergies.  I have to do what it takes to release, I have to express.  And write.  And write, etc.  

Art of  one of the most prolific artists ever to live.  Denver, Colorado, USA 

The inspiration to create doesn't seem to be the key factor in my lack of production.  Every day I experience the beauty and sadness of our earthly existence.  Every day I notice moments, observe love, listen to seagulls loudly squawk.  Every day I am taking things in, and every day the moments die inside.   To the point that I'm making myself sick.  Things feel off.  I feel lost. 

    

How life should be.  Buenos Aires, Argentina.

What has been absent for me is motivation.  To watch that documentary and realize what a gift this street artist has given the world on an incredible scale made me feel like a chump for not creating my own art when I damn well know I have the ability to do it.  I could feel the motivation awakening.  Do I think I'm going to have the impact that he does?  That's not the point, it's not a competition.  It's not about scaling my own art, it's simply about doing it to honor myself and to explore where it takes me, to give in to the gifts of destiny.  

There may be no one that ever reads this, and I'm okay with that.  But I am not motivated by fame or "being known" or whatever.  I am motivated by being bored and frustrated and feeling lost.  I am motivated by the feelings that I get when I watch others go through their journeys and realize I've taken way too long of a lazy break of my own.  I am motivated by the longing to feel like I belong somewhere, a struggle of my entire life.  I really want to feel like I belong in my own skin, on my own crazy, blessed, unique path.  I can't lie when I say that I do want to feel like I'm helping others, making a difference, not matter how small.  But I can't help anyone else until I help myself first.  So I write.  And write...