A New Year of Curiosity, Creativity, Risk

You have to remember that the reason that you started initially working was that there was something inside yourself, that you felt that if you could manifest it in some way, you would understand more about yourself and how you coexist with the rest of society. David Bowie

My first Substack entryFeb 28, 2023

Luxuriating in my morning shower, everything is crystal clear. I know where I’m going. I understand everyone’s lives. I am pure love. Ideas and inspiration rise exuberantly with the steam. I would love to create a Beaker and Bunsen/ Mr. Peabody machine to pipette all of it into a bottle for safekeeping. I could line the bottles up in the bookcase in my studio, ready to be decanted whenever I feel confused, discouraged or in need of direction.

I came across an article by Calvin Tomkins in The New Yorker about Scottish painter Peter Doig’s life and works. “Accidents, mistakes, and unforeseen discoveries figure to some degree in the work of most artists, but Doig is a virtuoso of the unpredictable.” He has catapulted through life, trusting his whims at every turn. The dictionary definition of whim include words like capricious, eccentric, often sudden idea or turn of the mind, a sudden wish or idea, especially one that cannot be reasonably explained.

This reminds me that age 72 is no time to feel timid.

Life can feel small and inconsequential in the day to day, but the overall story can be glorious. Which is more important? Daydreaming about that novella-in-flash festival in Bath or stopping on the sidewalk to hear the old man’s story? My shower-self knows the answer. Everything is sacred, from the passion to create, to the old man on the sidewalk, to sitting quietly to stare out at the sea.

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Today

I was thinking of the risks of creativity…the worry about what others will think…the wondering if you really don’t have much to offer and on and on. Self-doubt magnified.

I am in the process of compiling a Chapbook of 10 poems for a contest at Palettepoetry.com…trying to adhere to their ground rules while assembling and fiddling with a variety of pieces that might fit the bill. When I sat back in my chair and looked over my submission, I thought I’d put together an interesting collection, until I started to feel embarrassed by it.

Proud? embarrassed? confused? This is the danger of going out on a limb. It’s either brilliant or you’re about to end up on the ash heap of bad ideas. Here’s where my faithful, truth-telling, dear friend and husband, Bill comes in.

I printed out my poems and asked him if he would read. Bill is my eyes and ears of normalcy, of reason, of storytelling and most of all, when he looks at my stuff, he’s equipped with impartial eyes. I was ready to throw the pages into the fire, until he said, “This is great.”

And Bill loves to get my reaction to his morning watercolor. Why do we need someone else to tell us? Why are we so unsure of ourselves? Lots of reasons! Fear of failure, fear of rejection, judgement, hurt feelings.

FYI, I painted over all of the paintings in this post - for fear of criticism from self, others? (and of course, the problem of too many canvases stacked around the house!) I’m am happy to have photos. They remind me to keep at it, to keep venturing into unknown waters.

I thought this last painting was kind of stupid until a stranger gasped how much they loved it.

Let 2025 be a year of discovery, kindness, adventure, love and on and on, into the woods. Happy travels!

PS I’ll report back on my Chapbook submission!