I’m finally doing it. I’m moving all my writing and photography one last time (I hope) to a new website: DeonneKahler.com. It’s live now, but sparse in terms of content. I’m starting to pull posts from here and move them over there, as well as adding new content to that site.
We were talking about fear in the column a few weeks ago, and now I’m thinking about safety. Mostly because I’m on the road, and though it’s not like I’m trying to cross the border with a kilo of heroin, there are risks involved when you travel alone. Not least of which is an obvious lack of interest in good grooming. But maybe that’s just me.
Maybe it’s just me, but this winter seemed to last a year, and spring can’t get here fast enough. Now that we only have a week until it officially arrives, I’m thinking about what we can do with the longer, warmer days. (Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about creativity.)
If you’ve been making art for any time at all, you’ve known fear. You’re cruising along, producing solid work, feeling pretty good about yourself and your life as an artist, and whammo – fear jumps out of a dark alley and knocks that satisfied smile right off your face.
It used to be that an artist toiled in solitude, sometimes for years, then finally emerged with a finished piece of work, which she then published, showed at a gallery, or shared on stage. It was a cycle of seclusion followed by public unveiling, repeated over and over.
And Salida, Colorado, and Cody, Wyoming, and wherever else the road takes us. This trip is all river festivals and rodeos and big skies and hopefully at least one bear sighting. From a distance. (However, god or somebody help me, this trip will not feature the just-referenced Bette Midler song that’s now lodged in my brain like an Amazonian parasite. Good job, Kahler.)
If I stood on the Plaza and asked folks what makes great art, I’d get as many answers as if I’d asked what it takes to become a “real” Taoseño.
Last year I started a novel and a personal development blog. I started them because they seemed fun and interesting, and also because I thought I should start them. It’s what people with my background (an MFA) and interests (navel-gazing) do.
(Note: This ran early in January, but since it’s now mid-year, it seemed like a good time to ask these same questions.)
Happy New Year! Whether 2012 was your best year ever or one you’d rather box up and stuff in a closet, I hope you’re excited about 2013. New year means clean slate, a chance to let go of mistakes or missed opportunities and push your creative life to new heights. Let’s kick it off with my favorite quote from poet Mary Oliver: