As you, the vast hordes of regular visitors to my blog, have noticed, I've been far less diligent in posting as of late.

Like everything else in my life, the creative process is predictably cyclical. I find myself currently at the bottom of that cycle, right at the spot where the effort/result ratio seems especially fruitless. My writing seems especially indulgent and overwrought. I'm finding it harder to discover interesting subjects to photograph. It seems counterintuitive that this would come right at the time when the legendary Okanagan weather has finally arrived, but I suppose it makes sense: instead of clickity-clicking away in a coffee shop, I spend my mornings before work lying by the pool amongst the tiny white flowers that line the courtyard.

There aren't any outlets conveniently placed out there, and besides, the blazing sun casts a glare off of the computer screen that makes it hard to work anyway.

The only thing I've found that can prevent me from falling victim to a permanent creative ennui is the work of other writers and photographers I admire. I watched Factory Girl a few nights ago, and while I enjoyed the concept of Andy Warhol's Factory, it was the inspiration and stimulus that Edie brought to Andy that I could immediately relate to.

It's been ten days since I last posted, and my day began with the resignation that I had nothing to say - until my Google Reader flashed with the familiar link in all lowercase.

It's a little piece about shining shoes. A piece that wasn't about shining shoes at all. A piece that was revealing, funny, sad, incredibly descriptive, insightful, and beautiful.

I'm no Andy Warhol, and it would be impossible to fit her in the Edie Segwick box. But this dear friend in Upper Canada was the inspiration to begin this exercise, and it seems perfectly appropriate that she be the inspiration to continue.

11.6.08 Cropped to 3X5.

1 comment:

claire said...

you are both too kind and too hard on yourself.