Blank walls. From photographic diary.

 

Who am I? I am young, talented, healthy ... am I happy? I am a wife,

a mother ... an artist? Why am I unable to create? Focusing. That's the only thing I want.

Everything distracts me. That purity I'm searching for, serenity.

Something always causes obstruction, always comes out of the corner. It appears in the frame

to get me upset. To remind me that the flowers are unwatered , that

the child must be washed and put to sleep. Where is that serenity? After all,

I live in a paradise, an oasis of calmness. Allegedly. Then why is it so hard to reach that calmness? It's so tiring. The same thing day after day. Each day is similar. I sit and just do nothing. Just staring at the

blank walls. Where is that power, that creative tension? Why am I unable to do anything? I

have the opportunities, I have it all. I have too much. Plenty does a lot of

mess. My head is a mess. Order - that's what I want.

Doing laundry, washing-up, ironing. I know where lies the secret of these simple acivities: the effect is immediate. That's what I want. To get rid of everything in my head. To leave just one thought and focus on it. Conceive, illustrate,

accomplish. Immediate effect.

Blank walls - it's a start. Today I will succeed. Today I'm selfish.

 

 

 

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