Four pieces in the works

I started these four pieces yesterday:

Honestly, I'm in a black mood. I'm in a place where everything I work on looks dreadful to me. I hate these periods. But the one thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that these feelings won't last forever. So I feel like I can't write constructively on these four pieces given my state right now.

Ironically, these dark periods seem to happen shortly after I've been inspired. There might be some kind of letdown happening. This weekend I went to the de Kooning exhibition at MoMA. I was blown away; it brought tears to my eyes. The energy, the motion, the total harmony of a canvas made of disharmonious parts was beautiful. I wrote down a bunch of things he said. One is, "Being anti-traditional is just as corny as being traditional." God, I love that. Here's something he wrote: "It is clear that there is no progress in art." Beautiful. I look at the cave paintings in France and wonder why I continue to make images. It's all there in those caves. Look at really early photography. It's beautiful. Part of me feels that modern photography doesn't come close to the power those old photos have.

So, I got really inspired this weekend. I then woke up Monday morning in a black mood that has stayed with me. I'll just keep on keeping on. Eventually I'll feel different. One of the things that's disconcerting about these dark periods is that I can't trust my judgment. I have to literally ignore what my brain is telling me. Last week I felt in my bones that I was onto something with my art, that I had made a breakthrough. Today I feel like a completely talentless fraud. Fun stuff. When I'm in these moods I think about the response I get from people when I tell them I'm an artist. Some say, "Gee, I wish I was creative." The implication is that the art just happens. You just pick up a brush and out it comes without any work. I don't know, man. This is definitely not what I experience. As Chuck Close said, "Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us get up every day and get to work." Being close to my art is a blessing and a curse. The frustration I feel when it's not going the way I want it to go is immense. And then there seems to need to be periods of stewing, staring, mulling over. I rarely am comfortable during these periods. I way prefer the moments when I am creating. The energy feels so immense, like I am riding it.