I was really drawn to a couple of digital kits that I saw recently at Deviant Scrap. They can both be found there at Holliewood Studios. One was called Stark and the other was called Void. Today I started playing with the all-white images of the Stark kit.
The title for this piece came from a poem by Alice Fulton called Fuzzy Feelings and goes with my mood today. Here is the part of the poem that inspired this piece:
"Does grace mean alive and lucky
to be not writhing?
Or the ability to hide it
when you writhe?
The fissures == vacancies inside."
Some days you just go through the motions and do what you have to do. You're lucky not be writhing; or, at least you can hide it. But you do go on. I am fortunate that I have my husband, my art and my volumes of poetry and fiction to turn to in the dark times. And the dark times are not all bad. And they aren't really sad for me, just reflective right now. I'm okay with that.
So these fuzzy feelings are floating in the back of my head and I'm even doing some writing of my own. I used to write fiction and poetry years ago. I'm starting to dabble in fiction again. I went back and read some old stories I had started and never finished. I felt a little tug when I revisited the old characters and plots I had created. Now I'm playing around with their worlds again. I see it as just another form of creativity; another outlet.
I even used to write stories when I was in junior high school. My sisters would read them and then show them to their friends. They would then come back asking for more and I found myself writing mini soap operas because these girls were so involved with the characters I created. It was fun and even now one of my sisters still writes her stories. So maybe when she comes to visit again next month I will have some to trade with her!
I like how I can be inspired by poetry or music or even other images. It's funny how you don't even realize that something is inside you waiting to come forth until you see an image and it breathes life into it or a song moves you and wakes it up. Or maybe a poem evokes a fuzzy feeling that eventually manifests itself into a piece of art that is exactly what your soul would say if it had a voice.