Durotriges

I tend to go through gluts in photography. One minute I’ll have hundreds and hundreds of pictures to process and then, suddenly, nothing.

The same is true of writing and music. The creative urges to compose in both media come in fits and starts – I’ll nail down several chord progressions at once and then dry up.

It can be terribly frustrating. Take now, for example. The reason some of my sentences are so short is because every word is like a… a… Well, I’m afraid the only analogy I can come up with at the moment is constipation. Which is really unpleasant and thoroughly unworthy. I’m truly sorry.

But what do you do when your imagination dries up? Like it has at the moment. I wish I had answers to the question. Where are my spiritual bran flakes?

Imagination and creativity are like muscle. In order to build them up, they must be exercised and used regularly. Some days, you really have to force it. But damn, does it have to be this hard? I guess everyone knows the theory, a bit like exercise, but when it comes down to it, sometimes you just have to possess sheer, bloody-minded self-discipline.

Which is, of course, where I fail in spades. I am so easily distracted, it’s unreal. I have a mind which flits from topic to topic and gets bored very easily. I look at some photographers who take pictures of the same theme over and over – and I envy them. There was one guy who was featured in my paper the other day who had spent years taking pictures of nothing except blocked up doorways. And I think, “Damn, I wish I’d thought of that.”

But I would start on something, take three or four shots and then move on to something else.

So if I’m not terribly active in the community from time to time, it’s not because I’ve fallen out of love with you all because I love just wandering around the gallery and looking at all the works. It’s just that my muse has taken a vacation while I’m still stuck in the office.