My friends at House of Current in Atlanta asked me to be a guest blogger for them. The topic was sources of inspiration (what makes me brain tick.) So, I wrote for them. You can see the post on their website here.
P.S. House of Current is an ad agency that deals with very big names so I’m honored they asked me my opinion.
Here was what I wrote for them.
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Sometimes I have none. Sometimes I have more than I can handle. Usually I feel as though I need it when it isn’t around. Standing on the corner and some paper trash blows by–tumbling. The bus is dirty and late. sigh. fret. worry. When will I learn?
There is a method to this maddening process. I am no good at meditation but I want to get better. Cut out the clutter and breathe deep blue air. I can think for days and stress about being inspired– nothing happens. I want new ideas– nothing shows up on my mind’s front porch. I sketch and draw and need new ideas for projects. I hear an owl in the woods of despair. Hoot?
I was sitting outside the Atlanta Botanical Gardens while waiting on Maria. People were walking by. I was sitting in the shadows on a retaining wall while watching plants and leaves and old folks with newish jackets. Then it shows up– out of the blue. Like a hand of cold water with whispy fingers in a warm lake. My brain filled instantly with ideas and ways to implement them– but from where? I will not complain. Rain falls on the parched earth. I must work.
I start to create and things develop. Gravity and time restraints conform my plans. Critiques alter my vision. I back up and rework. Out comes something I am proud of. I show the work– street corners and social media. They judge or look away. I enjoy knowing my art has entered a new public realm for all to see if they choose. Like background music, all hear the sounds but not all listen. I play my fiddle.
So I still ask, “Where does this come from– this inspiration when I unhook my mind.” Sitting in the shadows and not trying usually produces what I need. Patience and calm create the fertile farmland of ideas. The art of children– birds and fish and the sky– a mix-match of conversations and sounds. I believe there is a SPIRIT all around us and through us. I think this voice speaks to us if we listen– to some more than others. I think some are vessels for sharing these sounds and colors. Some folks will never hear or see. They choose to be blind. I want to show these spiritual voices for others. I think this SPIRIT is what inspires me. It speaks to me when I least expect it and moves me to communicate with the people. I only hope I can continue to feel and accept the message.
It is an old voice– a flowing inspiration. A river in our soul– medicine men and classic painters– the poet on the street– the writers and the mystics– the dead prophets and the clouds in the air. We must be thankful.