I have described myself an artist. But it takes more than a description; I have to still post some of my works (aside from photos). Maybe soon. Moving on…
I say that (I’m an artist) not just because of arts. More so, of how I am — How my mood works. How I think.
No, I’m not bipolar nor do I intend to belittle someone who is. The thing about my mood simply reflects on my body language, my facial reaction. I try in as much to contain myself when I’m angry, frustrated or whatnots. But people who know me that well can see the transparency, sans all the face gunk nor facade I try to put on.
Another is the mood to be creative. Creativity can be translated through words, through images, through art; in my case, I try in as much to post (more) photos rather than art. Words? Maybe sometimes (like now).
And my “being an artist” translates here. When creative mood shifts in, notice how posts are continuous through photos shown and words expressed. Then the “creative block” pays a visit: no matter how many ideas, how many words, how many archived photos…. NONE. No inspiration to draw from, nor strength to even put up a fight.
So the silence drifts.
Then without even thinking to be creative, the block is gone. I miss being creative. I miss thinking of ways-to-be.
That’s part of the artist’s pigment. I have the creative block to discourage me to be, for a while. But like any other
artist people, you have to find a way to simply get up and carry on. In my case, to be an artist.
(All of these I write, as I
watch listen to the movie “Before Sunrise”).