Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Looking back

Years ago, I painted this from a photograph. It is the farmhouse at Charleston, although you would be forgiven for not recognising it.

Next year, I intend to be more creative and try to adapt rather than copy. Exercising the imagination should be entirely pleasurable, absolutely crazy and free of rules. For someone like me, whose dreams are elaborate, vivid and often completely barmy, this should be easy. I used to think there was not an original thought in my head; now I'm beginning to wonder.

The transformation has been mostly as a result of attempting creative writing for the first time since school. I find it immensely pleasurable to do something entirely for its own sake, not to make money or reputation. How many authors have the freedom to work this way? Great pressure would be imposed by the need to earn, and while earning would be a bonus I neither want or expect that by painting or writing. Maybe all authors should try to work within the framework of a selfish enterpise, somehow forgetting their efforts are necessary to put food on the table. Maybe a lot do that already.

Meanwhile, I shall return to the OU coursework and paints, inks, brushes and glue (don't forget the glue) for the sheer pleasure of escaping into the world of my imagination, with my eyes open.

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