There’s no denying, I’ve been victim of writer’s block lately. Creativity, ideas, inspiration, are all things that come in waves, and those waves are nearly impossible to manifest at will. One just has to ride them while they’re waving, then accept the void when they’re not. Sometimes that creative flow is in abundance for long stretches. That’s how I remember my time in NYC. But that well will always dry up for a while and you just have take your feet off the peddles and let it coast. I’ve been riding this bike for years and that seems to be the pattern.

I drew this in 1991. I remember it so clearly. I graduated from art school in ’90 and I was working at CPI One Hour Photo in the mall, living alone in a studio apartment #303 at 1415 Cook Street in downtown Denver. I spent most of my time alone with the TV on in the background attempting to draw a picture a day. It’s the thing I had to do to make myself feel worthwhile after art school. Every night, if I drew a picture I was happy with, I’d prop open my sketchbook next to my bed so I could validate my worth before I slept.

This particular evening I couldn’t sleep, so I gathered up my sketchbook, journal, pencils & pens and walked to a 24 hour diner on Colfax. Besides the people working I was the only one there, and this was the closest I could come to expressing what I felt. It’s exactly how I feel now.
I know eventually those things will wave at me again, but this is my description of them not.

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