(FYI- the images above are photographs of a series of collages created by my mom, artist Mary Fussell)

Where’s the inspiration?
I am wondering this, looking for this, and doing so actively from a passive place on my couch.
My creativity is often spurred into life by another artist’s work, but nothing I’ve seen of late has really lit my fire. Well, maybe Julie Taymor’s film, Across the Universe. Although it was certainly not core shaking, the music brought to the forefront of my mind a musical influence I’d deeply loved in my younger years and hold close to my heart in the present.
Or maybe Joni’s new album, which I got my hands on earlier today. It’s subtle, like the lady herself, and needs space and time to sink in.

Time and patience are pivotal to inspiration, but I’m trying to push myself into it. I feel like I am wasting time, that my nights should be filled with hours of painting or poetry instead of trying to read Freud and ending up making booklists on amazon.com instead.

My mom has found inspiration in nature, using it to piece together a series of collages that are understated, organic, and altogether beautiful (see above) She gets in the flow with them and the art just pours out of her. I write a sentence of my story a night, before leaving it to tomorrow and turning on E! news. It’s awful to own up to, perhaps it's my hope that by doing so, I'll help things to shift.