Blank White Walls
I am afraid of being myself.
i have just spent the better part of the last two hours staring at a blank white screen. occasionally a few words or so would climb to the top of the page, jump around, do a little song and dance and eventually give up and try their luck in a different venue. It's a tough crowd tonight, folks.
as i watched the words make a feeble attempt to impress, i was struck by my reluctance to claim them as my own. what is it that makes me so nervous to commit to what i write? this is not a recent development. the problem permeates other areas of my life...like my inablilty to name songs. i have been a singer/songwriter for roughly ten years. one of the strongest repeating memories i carry from high school is that of my best friend saying, "so...what's the title?"
hence, the name of my blog. everytime i came up with a name, i would immediately erase it. not good enough. unsatisfactory. etc.
A few months ago, I sat alone in a coffee shop surrounded by several books, paper, glue, pens and colorful magazine clippings and blankly stared off into space. what to write, what to write. after an intense staring contest with a blank sheet of paper, i ended up writing the following sentence.
why. can't. i. write. anything.
which brings me to today. i was talking to k last night and announced that what i REALLY wanted was a blank white wall that i could paint. i figure that if i have a big enough space, i'll be able to create something worthwhile; something praiseworthy. of course, k looked at me for a healthy thirty seconds before saying, "what's really going on? you realise that the fact that you don't have a giant blank white wall isn't the real problen."
touche.
perhaps it is time for me face myself without distraction. what would it mean to be without limitations? to have a giant blank white space with no borders in which to create life? maybe i am just afraid of what would come out. still, starting a blog could be a good step for me...putting my thoughts on display. we'll see what happens. in the meantime, it is time i start getting out my paints.
2 Comments:
Responding very late to "Blank White Walls: 9.05.2005
I totally feel what you're saying. There are times where I start to write things of substance, and I can write it... but then there's a wall that I let prevent me from carrying my efforts to fruition. Naming songs... even settling on lyrics- having completely different sets of lyrics for the same song- you know. With drawing/painting, I never used to like what I created; it was never good enough. In high school I didn't have time in my schedule for art, so I let it slide until the last few months. Now my approach is totally different; it was a control issue. Where I was thinking I had to completely control every aspect, I tend to let things flow and happen... and then they come out naturally. And the natural aspect is what I think often appeals to people, in both art and music- it looks or sounds as if it's the only way it should look or sound. It was born that way. There was no manipulation. Now, obviously there is some manipulation... even considerable manipulation and effort. But... I think you can manipulate after you have the core of what you're creating. However... I do think your manipulations also have to be natural in that same sort of process- let things happen. What the late Bob Ross referred to as "happy little accidents".
It's been almost three years since you posted this before I finally stumbled across it to read the words that you so eloquently dribbled onto the page.
What's funny is your description of the troubles and problems of actually putting out words to which you'd take credit, yet what you put has a style and rythm of it's own eloquence. I love the mental images they put into my head of words, climbing to the top of the page, etc.
Despite your insecurity, the words seem to come just fine...
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