|One cramped messy corner|
My studio has a life of its own. An invasion of paper, tools, binders and books appears out of nowhere to nourish an image in the making. The workspace becomes a temporary, if somewhat perilous work of art in itself.
The old studio was bigger than the one I have now, but even there, l managed to trip on litter that mysteriously grew from the floor. Precariously balanced piles of research contributed to the harvest by flying from perches and landing with a bang that I rarely ever heard.
I suffer from creative deafness. When I am parked at my easel, I become a frequent source of frustration for those around me. Family members that approach while I am task-focused are met with high-pitched shrieks and leaps of surprise.
Startling the startler is nature's revenge.
Temporary loss of hearing is also the plight of the daydreamer. My grade school report cards attest that my mind was not on my studies but rather in world of ideas, dreams and fantasies that unimaginative elementary school teachers, frozen in bricks of rationality and routine, could never access or be bothered to understand.
Habits continue. Mundane tasks like blowdrying hair or washing dishes require little brainpower and are equally conducive to daydreaming and part time deafness.
"Clean up as you go along you silly goose and mop up your mind!" I hear you cry!
But this interrupts the creative process doncha know. Once a work is done, a thorough cleaning happens. Ebb and flow...
and Leonardo da Dish Mop is born.
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