Abdulisms
Image: Hannah Faith Oni
Pictured: Artist, Creative Director, Side Mission King; Abdulisms
Today. At this very moment. I feel like I'm losing my touch at something I'm very good at. I feel like I need to tell someone. But I don't want to. For all their good intentions I don't want to get into the ass kissing Olympics of my friends telling me how good my work is, when all I can see is its faults and shortcomings.
Sometimes encouragement is good. But today all of it feels like a lie. Today nothing I touch excites me. I feel my love for this medium withering. I feel my inspiration for another grow. It's saddening. I wish I could keep both. Grow them in unison. Watch them both blossom. But I can't stay in denial. I would rather one dies for a while and finds its moment of rebirth bigger better and stronger rather than this flogging of dead horses that I have become accustomed to in pursuit of my next invoice.
This process isn't new to me. Every so often I wrestle with the threads of time, resource and energy that I grasp to try to make sense of what I'm doing. As someone with a varied approach to their art practice some mediums take precedence over others. In the past few weeks the batteries for one of my tools has been running low. It's not a vital tool, but I've felt my excitement about what I create with that tool deplete with these batteries. For a split second, I think I can restore my inspiration with a fresh pair of Duracells. The next tells me not to bother. The harder I try to save it, the longer it'll take to recover. Let it die, leave it be. Find another outlet while this one finds time to breath.
I don't know where I wanted to go with this. But I was told my writing could be about anything. Or better still nothing. So I'm afraid I won't be apologising for my ramblings.
“You’ve made it this far”.
Image: Hannah Faith Oni
(Abdulisms pictured with Sunflowers. First cultivated by Indigenous People in North America. Amongst some tribes such as the Cherokee, Osage and Sioux, legend tells that the Sunflower is connected to the stars and was created to save lands by four sisters who represented each of the seasons. The sunflower follows the sun through the day as it rises in the East and sets in the West).
I just finished a round of editing. It's 4am. Typically I reserve work at this hour for things that excite me. But I just finished and for the second time this week. Absolutely nothing about it excites me. And something I've come to realize about myself is that I can't engage with things that don't excite me. It gives me white hairs.
I resent talking about mental health publicly. Particularly my own. I observe it like faith, nobody's business but one's own and who they choose to share that with. But I feel similarly about it as I do about this practice. Talking about it doesn't inspire me. Practicing it has come to feel empty and hollow. And I wish not to talk to my friends or loved ones about it today.
Most people aren't equipped for much other than support, pity or complements. But I don't want any of that. I just want to be excited. I want to move onto the next thing and be excited about creation again. This is the crux of when I am most happy. This is the language I speak to myself when the limitations of English or the vastness of Arabic fail me. I find something new that lights up my spirit....
I've ignored all the prompts I was given for this piece of writing, or maybe I've internalised and buried them into whatever this is. On a better day I may have written something more concise, coherent, useful, informative, maybe even more personal. But, I don't feel like that today. And I'd like to think that should be honoured too.
Today isn't the day, many days aren't the day lately. And increasingly there's less I can do about it beyond finding peace in my friends and practice. But that's enough for me. Today I must sit here in this damp puddle of nonspiration. And hope tomorrow brings better fortunes.
To mine and yours.
With love and sunflowers
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