I have stared at this blank page for months. A word or sentence jotted down, typed out and then immediately deleted, laughing at me as it disappears from the white nothingness below it’s photograph. The image, innocently taunting me. Like the sand beneath her feet, the ideas slide out of my mind more quickly than I can explore them. I persist, however, coming back every couple weeks to stare blankly again. I can’t decide if the title is more apt or ironic. Is it possible to be both?
Here’s to the old recurring theme of my art. Notebooks full of unrealized projects and portfolios litter my bookshelves and my brain. Will I persevere this time? Do I have the endurance to see this one through? Only time will tell, but she is on my side. It is never too late to delve into your own creativity.