I’ll admit I’m a monogamy kind of guy, when I want to commit to something. The thing is, I commit to it like the way I commit to my work and my creative expression. It is who I am. I don’t do anything unless I can be all the way into investing in it becoming the best I can accomplish, with all the skills I can bring to bare. I am the one I aspire to impress.
The thing though that brings me a certain sadness and sobriety is like my creations, each creative project has taught me something about myself, and each one has come to an end.
It’s not my style to tinker, to toy with doing something, maybe get around to it next month or so…
I throw my self at what I decide I’m doing, like that awesome summer when my best friends and I got together to shoot a short film in that downtown Detroit warehouse. How on what may have been the last day, I reached down to pick up my worm-drive circular saw just in case. Three months later I was living in NYC. That film went on to win 12 global awards. Stuff like that.
I’m afraid for me, relationships are the same way. It’s not about making it stable, keeping the brush rinse-water clean, stretching canvases before the one you’re working on is done. It’s fucking messy.
Relationships contain a sort of bigger than life, force. Learning to let that life force come and go relative to its own individual life experience, has been one that has brought me to my knees so many times, the laughter, the joy, the crazy fucking, the not wanting for it to be over, the not ready yet.
But I am drawn through phases by my openness to being effected by the other. The courage is in knowing that after this next creative endeavor is over, I will be a different person. I won’t be able to go back in there and do that again because it won’t matter the way it did at the very moment I was tearing myself open.
Looking at old photos of women from my past I marvel at what we created together yet how that very creation taught us both something unique about each other. Lessons that the other may never understand completely, but there in lies the respect for each person to see where there own river leads.
It’s not a been there done that at all. We literally can’t go back. So when the time comes, all we can do is reach down and pick up our saw and move on to the next pile of wood and sit there, do some grieving and wait for the inspiration to create again, to return.