This morning I unblanked a page to the extent that you see above. There is a temptation to make two dozen or so artworks based on this image, and challenge myself to make them different enough so that each piece offered something none of the others did, and yet the whole of them would make a worthwhile exhibit in a reputable art gallery or museum. Ambition fuels achievement, and even if the goal went unachieved, or otherwise a failure, I have some confidence that the six months or so effort I see going into the endeavor described would be time well spent.

On the other side of my psyche, there are these wild horses stuck in their gates at the start of the race, and they want OUT and they want  to RUN and STRAIN and FINISH THE RACE will all due speed, and some undue speed that risks injury.

In the middle and reasonable region of my mind, there is a person who looks a little like Groucho Marx and a little like Morgan Freeman and a little like Eleanor Roosevelt, and that amalgamated chorus of reason says to explore some, but don’t get carried away. I think this imagined trifold of humanity makes the most sense.

Why do artists makes artwork? There is no one reason, but there are a few main reasons. One is the simple urge to bring something into being. One is to advocate a point of view, be it “Isn’t this bowl of fruit lovely?” or “The End of the World is Nigh.” One is to have something to trade for groceries or adventures. One is to try to make sense out of a tiny square footage of the Universe.

What drives me may be nothing more than addiction to expression. I’ve been drawing since I was two and a half years old, and I wrote the first of my thousands of poems and other creative writing when I was seven. I like making myself, and then my friends, and then the world, something to look at and something to think about. So today, to kick things off, I started drawing tiny circles on the page, one by one, asking and answering “Where should the next one go, and how big should it be?” Soon there was dialog, with circles saying “Concentrisize me” or “give me a sister” or “Geez it’s crowded in here.” A few said “Convey a gravity well.” And then they all said “Make us the background of a double-acrostic poem.” Instantly “SNAP SHOT” came to mind. It feels like it pushed itsd way up from my subconscious.

End of stage one. Stage two follows, sooner or later…