I should really paint… the ideas running through my brain are endless. Then why, when I’m standing in front of the white canvas, staring at it, does nothing come up for me? Maybe I should take a break for a few minutes. Don’t tell me staring may not warrant a break. It’s hard work staring down a stubbornly blank canvas.
Step one, okay. Refer to my list of inspiration ideas (the ones I jot down every second — you know). I pull out my phone to open the Notes app and there I go, tricking myself into a break: I can’t neglect this email, and I should ensure no important WhatsApp messages came through. Two unproductive hours later, and deep down the rabbit hole of my phone, I feel overwhelmed, so I shut off the phone. My brain is spinning off in a million directions. Why did I grab my phone to begin with? Ideas… right. Square one doesn’t feel great from this vantage point.
I flip through the potential concepts. This one? Too complicated. That? Save that for another day. No, not that one either. Too structural.
I catalogue my excuses and come up with one thought: just paint. The whiteness of the canvas simultaneously frightens and irritates me. It’s looking at me, like a conscience.
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