Far too often, my work has ideas of its own; no matter how well I plan out a project or try to envision it as a finished piece, even before I begin, I know it will go where it must.
Me? I merely go with it.
It’s like steering a runaway horse that you know won’t stop until it wants to.
You hold on tight, and hope to god you don’t get lost.
It’s a very stark contrast to my creative process for advertising. That is a system all its own, with calculations in both strategy and risks. It has a budget, and far more accountability on a fairly immediate level.
But deadlines are for the mad.
This most recent one has taken me into a dead forest full of petrified skulls hiding in the mud, if you look close enough.
Sometimes I vomit my emotions publicly through words, through music and performance.
Other times, I merely exorcise or, more to wit, recognize my demons.
I’ve reached the stopping point for piece number two in my series, it’s ready to be ignored for a spell, so I can return to it with a little separation.
So it’s on to the next process, the next piece of the series, and in the most obvious of clichés, the next piece of the puzzle.
I haven’t any idea just how far deep this rabbit hole goes.
I’m okay with such things.
Hell, I jump in head first, regardless of how I might land.