Ever since my Friday night excursion into collaborative art-making, I’ve been haunted by the energy of the experience. It’s in my mind and in my hand, wanting to come out in the work in my studio. I want the freedom I felt then, the abandonment of inhibitions that came with the single-mindedness of painting, not even caring about the people watching, just feeling like the paint was part of me and I wasn’t really there. And the interplay of another person’s brush strokes. Being fed by someone else’s creative energy. Playing with it, changing it, enjoying it.
That haunted feeling is what makes creativity. It’s the obsessiveness of the creative process. It’s the dwelling place. It’s exciting, it’s demanding, it’s absorbing. It’s home.