A masterpiece is waiting to be born, but first, I must clean my art room. The blank canvas sits patiently on the easel, while my brushes stand like soldiers awaiting their orders. Unfortunately, the clutter has staged a rebellion. Papers are piled precariously, paint tubes are scattered across the table, and yesterday’s projects have claimed every available surface. My imagination is a restless bird, its wings caged and frantically brushing against my skull, but I cannot possibly set it free until everything finds its proper place. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I begin my mission with determined dusting, careful collecting, and relentless rearranging. Clink! Clatter! Thump! Jars of brushes, boxes of supplies, and stacks of sketchbooks find their way to new homes. The clock on the wall mocks me with its steady tick-tock, tick-tock, reminding me that another hour has slipped away. I ignore the fact that creativity has never required a spotless room. And I straighten one more stack of papers, move a few more brushes, and admire my accomplishments. Now, everything is ready.
Something important has been happening with my creativity lately. Painting and poetry are no longer competing for my attention. Whether I paint with color or paint with words, one seems to awaken the other. I think about painting, and suddenly words come. I write, and images take shape. Something inside me opens like a flower to the sun. This is what it means to create!
I pick up a brush, and within minutes, my perfectly arranged supplies are scattered across the table. The room once more becomes a glorious battlefield of creativity, and I am happily lost in the chaos. The very mess I worked so hard to eliminate has returned, but now it has a purpose. Apparently, I had to make room for the mess before I could make room for the masterpiece. Tomorrow, I’ll have to clean it all up again. Or maybe…I’ll write a poem about it.
Cathy D.
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