Art is raw vulnerability and creative expression exposes us. Living in that vulnerability is a restless and ceaseless thing. Expressing it can be both magnetic and repellent. When vulnerability is the lens through which one interprets and interacts with the world, that restless stirring is always just below the surface if not completely spilling over.
The creative output is exhausting and life-giving. When given the chance to dissolve into the creative process, one may go on for hours or days without food, sleep or pause. Sometimes it's calm and meditative. Other times it is an outright brawl. There may be pacing, wandering, retreat and reintroduction, singing, dancing and stomping away. Logic or loved ones may talk us into a drink of water. We finally stumble out, wide-eyed, hair on end, trembling. Where were we? Who were we?
There may be scores to settle when we get back. In the best of circumstances, things have been worked out and released. But each time we emerge somehow changed, the narrative of our journey becomes its own creature: the art. Not ours, its own.
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