At the start of every new project I have to remind myself that I probably won’t like anything I do for the first few hours or days of it, and that this is all just a part of the process. My sketchbooks are filled with lots of ugly, not-good work, but often the important thing is to get the ick out of my system so I can move on.
In those moments, I want so badly for the next thing to come, to relieve me of the discomfort of creating bad work. But there’s also poetry in the discomfort, a strangely heightened sensitivity to everything. There can be feeling and music and color and stillness – all at the same time.
September has been a month of lots of bad work – and also of a couple of pieces of very good work. It has also been a month of long walks and good conversations. September has been infuriating, but it has also been joyous.
That is to say, it has been a month like most others, full of beauty and ugliness, despair and joy. Work has been made, deadlines have been met, wine has been consumed, friends have been hugged. Life continues, and a new season begins.