When at first you don’t succeed?

I have been a bit dry the past few months. While I have smatterings of ideas, I have not recorded any (new or existing) material. I have set up my next painting subject, but have yet to apply brush to canvas. The two drawings in progress remain on my art table at the same stage I left them months ago. The story I was co-writing has been stuck in the middle of the same scene since  . . . and you get the idea. While I won’t call it writer’s block, per se, it certainly has not been the most creative of times for me. I can’t blame it on one thing. If I could, the impedence would possibly be easy to push aside or eradicate for daring to get in the way of my artistic vision quest. No, it is rarely that simple, nor is it easy to explain whereof my funk originated. Life, as well as myself, sometimes get in the way. That is my excuse, and I am sticking with it.

Not to wallow in self-pity, but indulge me for a moment. Snapping out of it, so to speak, would be less daunting if I received even a nibble of encouragement. Okay, that isn’t completely true, but I will get to that in a bit. Back in June, I entered my latest piece, Bona Fortuna, in a popular artist magazine’s annual competition. Comparing past winners with my painting, I found it comparable and believed it stood a good chance of placing at least as an honorable mention. Well, the announcement was made on their site last week that all the winners were notified. I logged onto my e-mail and found only junk. I even checked my spam folder: zippo. While I was not completely discouraged, as I was realistic that the chances of winning weren’t tremendous, it does make it more challenging when I am struggling with ways to fan the flames inside me to keep that passion and drive going. On top of that, I could not even get into one of the largest local arts festivals. I guess it is who you know. It is difficult to set a precedent with those organizations when they won’t let you in to begin with. I wish I could adopt Groucho Marx’s philosophy to not care to be a member of a club that would have me. But blast it! I wanna play too.

Okay, I’m over it. All I can do is keep putting myself out there. Even Rasputin got some tail just by the sheer quantity of women he threw himself at. It would be nice if it didn’t cost money. These contests and festivals charge entrance fees to cover the jurors’ review, so I understand the necessity of it. For the most part, it is an immaterial amount. However, those costs do add up if incurred repeatedly. And really, until my name becomes more familiar—or more to the point—luck is on my side, I need to step up and throw what I have at the wall and see what sticks. Thank goodness for tax deductions.

As for the aforementioned nibble of encouragement, I do have to admit that the lightbulb is finally going on for me with regards to my vocal lessons. I am figuring out how to sing more properly to improve the longevity of my voice, as well as build on its strengths. I don’t even mind that age has shaved a little bit off the top of my vocal range.  I lost my love of singing over the years (again, its complicated), and am now rediscovering it. I do strongly suspect that I will be up for stepping behind the mic again fairly soon.

With this post, I hope to breathe new life into this blog along with my drive to create. I shant let them gather so much dust again.