I really don't want to dig through the cobwebs to find old canvasses and brushes. Nor do I want to discard old unusable tubes of paint and replace them with expensive fresh colors. Yet my greatest hesitation comes in the near future when all prep work is done and I must face that horror of a blank white space. The numerous personal demons hiding within and awaiting release again are far too frightening to me. I locked them up and hid them for a reason.
I become a withdrawn and mumbling shambles, when I paint. Lost are attachments to common sense, personal relationships, and small bits of my sanity. I often become hateful toward myself and become enwrapped in a darkness that some call a soul ...
Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of loss. Yet after all these years, I'm still living with that fear and have accomplished nothing because of it. Perhaps it is indeed time for my fingers to be stained once again with cobalt blue ...
This is just the first step. More tentative steps to come.
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