A co-worker of mine, on break from school for the winter, was wrestling with his impusles when I asked how he was enjoying the free time… He was desperate to maintain his pursuit of art and literature, from both sides of the canvas/page, while having no external pressure to do so… How do you stave off atrophy when there’s no grade?

Reminds me of my friend from Madison who’s always running herself ragged from job to job, project to project, pushing her way through each day with pies to bake and designs to screen, art to install and a book reading to attend… We would sit in the park drinking coffee or beer and she complained bitterly about this mid-western guilt, the requirement for maximun productivity squeezed from each day… Perpetually stressed out and tired but unable to relax– how do you decide how to choose to do one thing over another?

Somewhere floating around my head is a sensation that I should be doing something other than whatever it is I might be doing… Sitting and listening to a record is a waste of time and I should be playing guitar… Reading a book? Waste of time, should be writing one… Nothing could be more difficult than to attempt anything of the sort and I look around at people who spend their lives doing what they want to do… I can see the compulsion in my friend’s marathon painting sprees, days locked in his apartment filling the room with spent canvas, and I can see the results as worthwhile… Some need to create exists there and I scratch around inside my guts wondering where that need might be found… It takes me days to get around to shaving my head…

So the idea doesn’t carry itself, doesn’t manifest the will or desire… Walk around the block and there’s a dozen thoughts jostling for attention but once I stop walking they scatter like roaches greeted by the kitchen light at midnight… All that remains in the guilt of knowing that there’s something that wants out and I’m not facilitating this escape… Propulsion by guilt is hardly a satisfying method under which to function… Even when it results in my sitting down and trying to accomplish something, even when that results in something not horrible, it’s always laced with a bitterness feeling that the inspiration wasn’t pure…

So there’s stacks of paintings lined up against the wall of an apartment and a print arrives in the mail and a discussion about the merits of Sarte flows effortlessly above my head… My envy isn’t a reaction to the product but to the process, to the ability to start… How do you start?

-Q&D 4th floor Arts & Music, Main Branch

…and I’m not thrilled about this chum either…

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