Staying creative when the earth stands still

This quiet time kind of reminds me of the old saying "Does a tree falling in the woods still make a sound if no-one is around to hear it?". It questions our motivations for making art a little bit. Studio walls and closets only hold so much work. My work is for sale, but never made to sell. Its' a happy accident if someone appreciates what came out of my brain and onto the press. Everyone who makes art has their own motivation, and every reason is valid.

So while it's so quiet, I'm trying to do a reset and listen to the the little voice that guides me to the next idea.

My work lives in two camps, abstract and representational. My favorite projects are the ones that are just emerging from my head and I can't wait to see what will happen at each phase of the making, whether it's drawing, carving or the inking itself.

Obviously, representational projects require a different kind of preparation than the abstract monotypes that are created half on the inking table and half on the press itself. When it's a thing that we can all recognize, there is a certain truth to the object that we cannot escape. Each approach has its own reward.

When I teach a new student to carve, I like to set them free, in a sense, with an abstract as a first project. The obligation to replicate is gone and they are left with the fundamentals; line, form, intersection, balance.

Circling back to my original intent when I decided to write today, This quiet is not the kind any of us asked for, but it does gives us time to listen a little better.