Today I answered with joy John Koch-Northrup's (@ johnkochnorthrup) cool questions about creation...
maybe you'd like to think about what your answers would be, too?
~ What or who inspired you initially?
Under-tables and forbidden places/things to draw on with markers when I was 2, japanese cartoons when I was 6, XIXth century poems when I was 13, Phenomenology when I was 20, then experimental theater stages... Untouchable music always... After a creative block for years, Jodorowsky's book "the Dance of Reality" reinitialized me. Now what inspires me are synchronicities, psychologically magic poetry in acts, wild nature presence and language, sacred rivers and the surreal mess we can throw in them, and most of all: the erotic feeling of non-duality, the full consciousness sleeping in you and me that is our common treasure, and ways to make neurons in the spine breathe and remember and expand
~ What gets you up in the morning?
No alarm, my dream and my being decide together when one has shown the other what they both needed to learn. It can be any time, 5 in the morning or 5 in the afternoon.
I then write three compulsory automatic pages that never sound like me, right in bed, with half closed eyes, before my intellect wakes up. It teaches a lot, weeks later.
Then the perspective of making myself (and the fellows asleep around) home made pancakes with chocolate fudge helps a lot finishing the meditation that generally follows
~ How many projects do you work on at once?
... I dont know. Probably as many as the books I read currently, all over the place and in all rooms... It is a great way to never stop working without needing a break, jumping from one poem to the other sketch, up to the moment when I realise it's night, or day again. Also, it is wonderful to have some extraordinary color on your brush and you feel this other painting in the corner needs some too, making me feel the works and materials are helping each other to exist...
~ What comes first - the title or the art?
Depends. Some of my favorite works still deserve their real title, some of my favorite titles actually didnt even need something else, and they became short poems. Sometimes both offer themselves right away.
In all cases, it's like remembering an old song I didnt know I had forgotten, not even mine...
I love things to have no title and that they communicate without words, but then exhibitions stupidly title them "No Title" which are two words that have no link with my work, but are there illegitimately right under it! So unfortunately this forces me to find the title the work would have if it had one, sort of...
~ Describe the magic moment, the zone, the transcendent period of time where all is right in the world and the muses sing and everything snaps into place like it was meant to, where you were one with the universe. What happened? How'd you get there? How often does it happen?
Aaaah... That question at last! Thank you!
When I practice yoga and meditation, this happens all the time. But when my limited ego thinks it doenst need that sort of practice anymore, then this joy that has no cause doesnt happen too often, so I go back to it! And the leaves of gold flow in my blood again...
Devotion seems to be the key
To enter the womb of a forest I need to offer it a dance, to become the smell of paint I need to honor it like an incense for a temple, then I reach the point where I forget myself into what I am doing, and the line of the drawing is taking the power, deciding to go wherever it wants, and my empty wrist is following the flow, becoming the flow.
Contemplating a flower as if there was nothing else left on earth, up to start laughing to tears it exists and I exist, living and painting in the forest alone to the point when plants are my only contacts and they feel it, and I feel the connectedness clearly, without explanation... bathing or drinking "dangerous" sacred rivers that make my brain blow a fuse while realizing security doesnt exist, and that entering sacredness and magic is a decision to accept and cross the fear of being alive, to enter with empty pockets the crown of present that means GiFT, to be naked in the woods and sculpt with the mud under the roots, in a transe like a little animal who always knows where and how to find the right food.
All this is art if I dont keep it for myself! Offering poetry to the tree, then offering the tree to my story, then offering the story to you! Just offering things as the most precious things, to persons as the most precious persons, and what you talk about in your wonderful, essential question UNFOLDS <3
Thank you for inspiring me to share about all this with YOU, and with you all today!
Have a sparkling creative day, happy we met in that space and time