I need to wash the slate clean. Scrub it until there is nothing there; blank. Then and only then, can I start fresh. The slate I’m speaking of is my creative mind. I’m constantly dealing with a raging river of inspiring waters. So much so, that the inspiration turns into a muddled mass of murky fluid. Murky fluid doesn’t create a wonderful piece of art.
I look forward to being in Oregon. No humidity to drain my will to live. Lush green forests, muddy trails and fresh mountain air to fill my damaged lungs. The Columbia Gorge is my destination. Jeans, hiking boots, light jacket, water bottle and a sketch pad. My church doesn’t require fancy attire. She will greet me with open arms. With that said, I might need a friend to come to church with me; I don’t want to be mauled by a cougar by myself.
I look forward to a blast from the past: Heidi, my son, my son’s grandmother, my family and friends. I look forward to engrained familiarity …old stomping grounds, and a sense of mine.
Will this trip clean that slate of mine? I don’t know, but I assume it will. The thought of sitting high above the Columbia River on a rock or ridge with my eyes closed, breathing in renewing air will be the scrub brush that I need. Forcing my boy to hug me, and indulge in my tears will be the soap that I need. Visiting family, that is always a bittersweet event, will be the rinse water that I need. Laughter with friends will be the dry towel that I need to buff and shine my slate.
I’m going to clean my slate.
Regardless of a clean or dirty slate, I do feel as if I’m on the correct creative path overall. Series. I’m doing several different series. This allows me to explore what’s within…as I purge it out onto canvas, wood and now paper. It’s simply fun and exciting as I stretch myself as an artist…and a person.
Solitude and solace is my renewal, it always has been. Something about sitting with yourself, and your thoughts, (without distraction,) in the natural world, can be the truest reality there is.
Maybe that’s why so many of us avoid it?
How do others renew their selves? How do others clean their slates? I don’t know, but I’d be curious and interested to hear your stories.