The muse

Finally, I think the Spring has sprung. Was able to get out and go for a walk today without feeling tensed up and shivery with the cold. It was an absolute to joy to see all the front gardens blooming with Spring flowers;  it’s all a bit late now and they’re all out together – crocuses, daffodils, forsythia –  but at least they’re here.

Decided to give myself a bit of space this weekend to come up with some new ideas. There is currently a backlog of projects building up in my head – or is it my heart? Where does the creative urge spring from? Sometimes, when I’m drawing I get the sense that there is something else moving through me guiding my hand and pulling me in directions that I’m unaware of. When I make enlargements of the drawings I see the tiny pencil marks scratched onto paper but have no recollection of how it was achieved, they’re just there and I must have done them. I don’t know if this makes any sense, I know what I’m trying to say but…it feels as there is an interloper- albeit a benevolent one- in my head with its own agenda. The artist’s muse I presume.


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