[A human figure reaches and bends toward the ground. Making contact with the earth, their hand scoops a respectable sample of soft crumbling dirt into a mound. Repeating this movement becomes a rhythmic practice. There is diligence to keep adding until something else captures awareness and shifts intention. Once a dirt pile is of suitable accumulation, presence, resemblance, it satisfies the moment. Some dirt continues to fall from their fingertips as they shift weight, brush hand against hand, and allow muscles to stretch long unfurling their own frame upward from the earth.]
The descent down into creation feels like drilling down into process. The ascent upward is reminiscent of accomplishment. I view accomplishment as something simple like determining a single answer or direction to follow. Accomplishment is having gone through process. Inevitably I will have learned something new. Accomplishment also is achieved once I have finished a project. I am only recently reading my own words to realize there is no fourth event where I feel accomplishment–no outward accolade expected. I am the only person who truly knows the value of what I do, the commitment of time and life given to a process that becomes a practice from which a project might spring forth. It took time for me to see this. I am still asking myself if I believe it. Whatever value this has to you is yours, completely valid and truthful to you and your experience. If you believe something is of little value, ask a question about it and see if knowing more increases your idea of its value.
How do I begin? I usually begin by writing and sketching (on paper and video). I find these methods to be an efficient exorcism of repetitive ideas and corralling what is driving my curiosity. I rarely am interested in the loudest voice in my head. It is usually the quiet, hesitant idea that is unsure of itself who becomes the centerpiece–the shy performer given the solo.