I like to think of my life as a silent film, the black and white stills merging into present space. I remember moments in freeze frame, like the parties in NY where we wondered if someday someone would write about us the way they do about the lost and beat generations. These memories take me down a road of incredible writers, artists, and tales of wild parties. I remember a quote by Gerald Murphy to F. Scott Fitzgerald in a letter, “Only the invented part of our life—the unreal part—has had any scheme, any beauty.” And for a while I believed it. When it came to the mundane I was bored. The day to day of paying bills, drumming up work , and sending invoices was not how I wanted to live and yet it provided me with a roof over my head. The same could be said when I worked jobs in retail or at the print shop and yet when I think back to these moments I find them to be exercises in character building. I would not have the tools I have now without those jobs.
I find my mind wanders on deadlines. Sometimes it gets in the zone of not wanting to paint the same style, not understanding how a character moves through the space, and overanalyzing how I’ll get large amounts of work done in short spans of time. I always start projects inspired. I read through them, tap into their energy and want to be completely immersed. Buy the time it’s halfway through I start to wander, going down memory lane like the writing above. I’m restless, I’m tired and I could love the project completely but I’ll have to admit that maybe I’m tapped out. Before heading straight into burnout I’ll do a few exercises to get me back into the creation space.
Read the full article on Katelan Foisy’s blog The Vardo