I was in a funk.
I’m banging away at this book, and I love the process, and feel like I’m making progress, but the sense of “what’s the point” looms large lately.
Usually, it’s just a little whisper in the back of the mind, easily ignored. But it’s getting louder. Does it mean I’m closer to something? Or is it the Voice of Truth I’d Rather Not Admit? Don’t know.
But a visit to an art gallery has girded my writing loins. So to speak.
This is actually layers of cut paper, set a few inches in front of one another, with colored lights shining in between. Isn’t it amazing? It’s called a tunnel book.
Dezso also had ceramic bowls with strange images, pencil sketches, embroidered pieces, and a huge wall hanging of a magical land with bizarre creatures done with matte paint and markers.
She created worlds with all these different media, populated with frolicking creatures, and again, I wondered what sorts of stories she heard when she was creating them. Some referenced the Brothers Grimm, and some were her mother’s tall tales, but she worked for hours and hours to bring these stories to viewers. And…wow.
Her show, as well as Kate Clark’s, reminded me of what it feels like to respond to art by wanting to create art (in my case, writing). Sort of an “Oh yeah, I’m a writer” moment.
As well as an appreciation for all the other artists out there building their strange creations based on impulses and a vision–and a hope that someday, other people will see it and be inspired.