I have found that the more I create, the further I digress from the work I am responding to. I feel like art will have it’s own way, like a potato growing a tomato flower, it will do what it wants. Stepping into the mirror, I go inward.
Can I only paint my inner world? I feel powerless not to follow where it leads. Long hours spent in solitude seem to be a rare myrrh, because during Covid lockdown I felt so stifled by my reduced life. Fearful of the change, I retreated, desperate to find an alone space. This flow is only available to me when there is no one and nothing near me.
Covid put me at home with my partner, with our cats, with my garden, with uncertainty, with TV, with tasks and hustles, but not with art.
I feel the touch returning, and I can breathe a little more. V for Victory.