Isolation is a state of mind -so it is said and believed to be true. I find myself immersed in isolation, beyond my control, beyond a state of mind. It is a visceral reality that we find ourselves existing in, as makers; our minds are our homes.
The emotion around ‘today’ may be fleeting.
However, as a visual artist I have been here before. I live in and love my work — when I create, it is healing, expressive and holds properties that takes away burdens and fears. I seem to exist in a vacuum of wholeness, where I do not need anyone or anything else.
You come and go. You come and go. You come. You go.
When I emerge from this cave of private creativity, I find that the world requires me to assimilate and merge into its daily musings. This is that small blip, a nugget of a moment where I see that isolation has become a comfortable space, a home in which I nestle daily and play this game of ‘realities’.
What does isolation mean to an artist? For most of us it is an unchanged part of our practice. In this inevitability, I have found my rhythm and made it mine, where I now know how to distinguish between isolation, and when it begins to feel like solitude. I have learnt to identify my edge.
How do we as visual creators find this balance daily? Albeit we enjoy the space and its safety to create, the need for community is critical. The first real light our work sees are the walls of exhibitions, where not only are we assimilating, we also make ourselves vulnerable to critiques, buyers, enthusiasts and the eye of the passerby.
Creativity requires both to flourish; isolation and populace. Its balance is determined by the swings and skews of the creative mind, placing priority on what it is ready to interact with and what must wait to be embraced; placing both isolation and populace in an irreplaceable and paramount position.
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