Getting My Mojo Back

A side effect of the blog and more specifically planning a timetable of blog posts means I have had time to pause and reflect more, not just on esoteric issues related to the creating or collecting of art but also more specifically my own practice or lack thereof.

As with most things in life, there are always reasons not to do something, things which get in the way, people or jobs crop up these like so many challenges to doing are reasons, not excuses.

And then there is death. Death is so final.

Brett Neal was a truly talented painter. There was nothing that he could not render by hand if his eyes had seen it or his imagination envisioned it. Brett was my teacher, my artistic mentor if you will and his death was so shocking, only now am I beginning to unpack and understand the repercussions of it; the effects, some to me right now remain unfathomable…beyond reach.

Brett had been a neighbour and a best friend. Occasionally I forget and as I walk out of my road I will glance right as I always did to see if he was walking down to 7Eleven or pacing out the front of his house on his mobile. The signal by the tennis court was far better, he always said.

I tried to get back into the zone not long after he passed but I was discombobulated, it was too soon. Instead, I started something completely different; adhoc teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL), in this case online and to Chinese students.

Teaching has been good, as it fitted around the work relating to It brought in some pocket money and kept me ‘doing’, but recently I have started to feel the void knawing at my soul. I have started to long to create and my head is overflowing with ideas, with forms, colour.

In the beginning, it was just odd thought creeping in as if the suppression of all these creative thoughts over the last couple of years had somehow manifested itself into a slumbering Leviathon which has recently begun to twitch and turn in its arty dream state.

I would be thinking about something, dance to the ‘distraction’ and then force myself to think about the original train. For instance; I would be researching a piece on Mistakes made by Artists when I would find myself doodling, abstracts at first.

Recently, I have allowed my thoughts to travel where they must and nearly everything I am thinking and feeling relates to the fact I am not doing what I want to do. I need to return to be an artist. To be me, who I was allowed to be. Of course, the teaching is funny; kids are funny. But it is neither a challenge or my future.

Credit does also need to go to a few folks who have spurred me on of late, maybe unconsciously, not least the input of Brett’s brother Boyd, Griselda Mussett, David Kerr and Bonita Ellmore. If I have missed anyone else, you know who you are darlings and I love you too, so very much!

Four days ago for the first time since July 2017, I walked in the studio, not to get a book or to store something, but rather to clear space and start the process. I feel happy.

Its like learning to walk again; baby steps at first, but steps forward at a greater pace.

My mojo has returned.; long may it remain!




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