AGONY OF CREATION
For as long as I can remember I always wanted to an artist. But for the last few months’ art is bringing nothing else but depression to me. I being on an artist blog often find myself wishing my art practice would magically make me happy again, some sort of magical healing abilities that would send all my worries away.
Some days I struggle to get out of bed more than others. It’s just hard to move, to do anything, to feel anything. I go through my daily routine much like a robot. It’s lying in bed all day, doing absolutely nothing but drowning in my own uncontrolled thoughts. They say that when a creative person is feeling down, they should channel those feelings into their art. I hardly could retain anything in my memory. At times its easy for me, some random ideas just keep coming to my mind and I keep putting them on paper, other times its hard. I come up with absolutely nothing and these feelings are trapped inside, unable to be let out. A lot of times it feels as if all the emotions have been sucked from your body, leaving sadness behind to consume you. Sad is the only thing you think, feel, say or do. Little things can upset you further. But usually, there is no reason behind the feeling you just feel sad, constantly with no explanation no matter how hard you try to find one. Your life could be going great, fantastic but yet for some reason you still cannot “produce art”, “resolve art”. For some reason you find yourself unable to fall asleep at night. You feel a certain darkness lingering in the air, behind you, above you, below you, just waiting to take you over, but you don’t know when or why and you don’t understand it. Things can be happening around you, both good and bad and you simply don’t feel a thing. You simply don’t react. It’s as if you are in an everlasting sleep, but somehow you are still breathing. But there is no life in you anymore. It’s like you are in prison and your own body is your cell. You cannot even look outside and cannot appreciate a beautiful day, because your whole world is just grey. It makes you feel like an entirely different person when you cannot even enjoy your favorite food and all the things you used to love to do, start to become more and more boring. It starts to make you feel like you are not an artist anymore. You begin to believe that you will never be an artist again and that if you do somehow produce some work it won’t last long. . . . .