The mess in my room

There’s a photo prompt series, 52 Photos Project, that I like to participate in whenever I remember, which unfortunately isn’t often.
This week’s prompt is First thing I see in the morning, which seemed to dovetail nicely with last week’s wordpress Good Morning prompt.
Most precisely, the first thing I see when I wake up is the bedside table where I turn on the light so I can scribble dreams in my dream journal. Of course the clock doesn’t say 2:20, and the room is usually pretty dark, but there is the tip of the bear claw for protection, the tiny white buffalo fetish figure, the tufts of sweet grass braids still fragrant, the silver bowl filled with water to facilitate dreaming, the scattering of stones and crystals, the spooky death coaster from Santa Fe to remind me time is short, the nub of the rose quartz stone and the Virgen de Guadalupe candle holder just beyond –

bedside tableAfter all dream fragments have been captured in the journal, turning away from the little light on the table and lying on my back, I try to stay with the dream images and not worry about the day ahead and everything that needs to get done, keeping the monkey mind to a minimum, and my eyes go to the wall across from me, filled with images I’m currently interested in, a few my own and lots made by others –
20131013-223342.jpg
Lately one corner of this wall has held my attention – I look at it and think about the Salgado photo of the silvery scaly fingers and wonder what the rest of that animal looks like and about how I really do kinda like that heart drawing, should do more of those fast little ones, playing with the inks and pencils on paper, if I could just find the time… but also I like how these three things all work together, the claw in my mind shredding open all barriers to the heart like that memorable scene in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader where Aslan tears the dragon exterior off of Eustace with his claws, the entire episode leading to Eustace’s transformation from a tiresome, beastly boy (to use the language of the book) to a half-decent sort…
20131013-223017.jpgAt some point I really must get up, must sit up and then, well, I can’t help but see the true state of affairs, the growing disaster area that is my room –
20131013-224441.jpgIt began almost a year ago, when I cleaned off that far wall and started some big rough painting on rolls of newsprint. This secret habit has grown and bloomed and taken over almost the entire room with a ever-widening selection of surfaces to work on, kinds of paint and pencils to make marks with, the necessary protective measures underneath –
20131013-223945.jpgAside from time issues, aside from spreading myself across too many disciplines, it seems as though part of the reason I haven’t been writing much is that I can’t even get over to my little writing desk in the corner by the window –
20131013-223818.jpgIt is a strange unmoored feeling, to be mucking around with paint, to be spending a lot of time experimenting with something that doesn’t currently look like it’s going anywhere.
The paintings are ugly and amateurish.
There is no clear sense of whether or not there’s ever going to be something here worth pursuing.
But there is something exhilarating, liberating in the act itself –
painting cu 2

painting cuAnd I read something today that in its imagery offered some solace, some protective foil against negative thoughts even though the disciplines, the scale, and the stakes are entirely different. There was something fundamentally universal to the process of stumbling around in the dark of creativity being expressed – it’s from a review Stephen King wrote of Donna Tartt’s latest novel. He says –

To write a novel this large and dense is equivalent to sailing from America to Ireland in a rowboat, a job both lonely and exhausting. Especially when there are storms. Suppose, the writer thinks (must think), this is all for nothing? What if I’m failing and don’t know it? What if I make the crossing and am greeted not with cheers but with indifference or even contempt?

The book, he concludes, is a fine one, well worth the trans-Atlantic crossing.
For myself I have to remember that even if I have no presentable product at the end of my mess-making, it has felt good, it has been fun, and if I don’t push the boat away from the shore to at least attempt something, I will never know…

31 thoughts on “The mess in my room

    1. Mmmm – I was going to put a couple of photos of the downstairs rooms, with the idea of showing a contrast, but then I looked around and thought better of it…

        1. Well golly gee, thanks – I am just getting back into painting after not painting for a couple of decades. Had never gone very far with it – I always seem to have too many interests, try to do too many things at once, but right now it’s all for play, so that’s okay…

  1. My mother painted and drew many pictures in her life, many of them, perhaps most of them from her dreams. She also made pottery, played the piano, danced, carved an occasional linoleum block, and tried to carve some things of stone. None of it was done for sale or for other people, but as an expression of her soul, an effort in her own development. Whether other people understand or like your works or whether any of them is worth preserving has nothing to do with whether it has been any use to you to have done them.

    Terron

    1. Thanks so much for that, Terron – really good words to hear…the doing seems almost necessary, compulsive. Such a relief to not worry about anything else.

    1. I’ll take original! Original is okay in my books…
      You know, one of the things on my wall there is an old collage from Louise Dubreuil – what a talent…

    1. Haha! Made me laugh… It’s true, a few floor boards are peeking through (even if they do have some footprints of stray bits of paint on them) and the desks are not too bad at all…
      Glad you like the painting. There will be more. πŸ™‚

    1. They are pretty much everywhere! Mostly on the floor… I have a big stash from way back when I used to paint, plus I’ve recently been experimenting with the foam brushes you get from the hardware store for house painting – they are very cheap and give a different texture – interesting πŸ™‚

  2. i have always said, it may be a mess, but it’s my mess and i know where everything is so don’t judge me…and don’t touch anything!! great series of shots!!!!

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