Today has been a stormy day. The hurricane level winds blow outside, penetrating through brick. I’ve visited a hospital unexpectedly due to a loved one. Nothing serious.
Now, I near the end of this day feeling like I haven’t achieved much.
My voice still lies stifled within me somewhere. Though my mind is racing – no, rocketing ahead at mind-melting levels, I cannot find myself able enough to do anything, to mark anything. So, I turn to the open Photoshop programme that has been jumping onto my screen each time my laptop starts up, like a hyper pet dog.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I adore all Art and Architecture, in all it’s variety and forms. For anyone who truly knows me, knows of my struggles with Art forms. How the teasing muse within me has bound my hands and feet, poisoned my love and tortured me with incessant dreams and constant ideas. Never to be realised. Never to be known. My heart lies heavy again in my chest.
Alas not all is lost. It has taken losing more than that internal selfish need for creativity, oh so much more than that naive wanderlust and in discovering myself and my complete voice, that the tide maybe slowing changing. Not for the first time has this happened to me. I find the renewed shoots of a more aged, slightly wiser creative mark appear. I would like to use this blog and this monthly push to release a post everyday to document this present start. This creative return. This hope for confident strength, as I work hard at commanding a stronger, more useful creative voice not for others or praise, but for myself, my community and my world.
I start with the image I am using for inspiration. It was taken on 21st October 2015. It is the EC Stoner Building at the University of Leeds.
This building appeals to me because of the walkways, the angular features and stark existence. But beyond that the internal warmth, support and offerings of safety and longevity contained within it’s features. Though harsh, it is firm and fair with pockets of radiance and hidden depths of brilliance. Connecting all around it like a commanding, supportive father.