It is good to make a decision immediately after an annual event so as to make those reservations in advance. But planning an event so far in advance seems to invite all kinds of intrusions set up deliberately to challenge our ability to plan an event with any sense of control. This last show is a prime example of all the hazards of making plans - our plans (in and of themselves) seems to invite trouble.
So we talked about it this morning. Odia is tentative - she is now sewing receiving blankets and knitting soft, woolly cream toy elephants as she awaits Georgia's release from the hospital. She is absorbed now with motherhood, something beautiful - the highest artistic calling.
Cliff is contemplating abandoning his entire last year's work - abstract art about suspicion. He says this last show has put him into a new place - a new land of creativity, uncharted, unexplored and unseen. I think it was the disappearance of Dancing David that has changed something for him. Now he has no idea what he will produce - all he knows is that he doesn't want to do what he has been doing. That feels very nebulous and uncertain.
And what about me? I tried painting in pewter - thinking it might be a new medium for me - but I didn't like it. One such painting is good for me - more than one leaves me feeling depressed and uninspired. I still have the strong yearning for white - upon white - upon more white. In fact it's become quite an obsession.
It was confirmed again this year when we hung up Odia's installation of white robes, her white pillows,and placed her white statue of motherhood in the corner. Even when we hung Cliff's ceramic faces that were all brisked white against the walls of the gallery in textured brick white - left me feeling elevated, inspired. So it will have to be white - whatever I do.
But is there anything new in white - I wonder. Is it worth another show?
So I decide that we will not do the show. It isn't worth it, I tell the other two. They shrug.
After one day -- I check in with the others.
We are all feeling empty. What will we do with our time?
We remind ourselves, it isn't about making marvelous, award-winning, masterpiece potential art. For us it is the act of creativity that drives us. Odia might make a mobile of stuffed elephants, we will trust Cliff to form something in clay - whatever it will be doesn't really matter. And I will just paint something in white. One can't go wrong with white. White on white on white. Others might tire of it - but I don't.
In fact right now - just writing about it - makes me want to hide myself in my basement and paint and paint and paint. White on white on white. It might be a little crazy - but there is a faint connection between crazy and creativity my daughter always reminds me.
So it will be white on white on white.
How hard is that?
We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down. - Kurt Vonnegut