Description
Indiana. State #33
From K’s journal…
Creative block; if you’ve ever had it, it feels like trying to get through a recorded telephone menu while calling from a rotary phone. I know the composition is in there; I just can’t push the button to get to it. The trouble is that I have sent out emails to galleries in our next few states, and received positive replies. That should be a relief to me that people finally need little convincing about participating in The Nomadic Project. Yet, I feel the opposite of relief. I’m paralyzed by expectations. Commitment is the killer of creativity.
While I feel as if I standing at the edge of black hole, the only direction available is forward. I know this will pass, I keep telling myself it will pass. I just hope it passes in time for me to make my deadline to meet with our Indiana gallery. I paint over my canvas and start again.
We visit LAMP Fine Art in Indianapolis, where the owner, Jennifer Kaye, is full bubbling over with energy. She is a younger gallery owner who is less surprised by our age, and more open to experimental peices than a lot of the galleries we’ve been in. I am thankful for this because what came from forcing paint to move on canvas (despite my creative numbness), is one of the most experiemental paintings that I’ve created on the road. The painting from Michigan of Ford workers falling off the assembly line is full of satire. It feels perfectly placed among the unique art inhabiting LAMP gallery. The owner, Jennifer shares a little about what to see in Indianapolis but focuses more on what we can expect in Ohio. We scribble notes into our “must-sees” list. We have noticed that people tend to speak more to us about cities other than there own. I wonder, Is it just natural to be unimpressed by your home town? Is the grass always greener?
Not surprising, Indianapolis is like a sparkling gem compared to last week’s adventure in a tired Detroit. We journey down the canal walk. Gondolas run beneath city streets, while Arts Garden arches above. I stand admiring an LED screen on the sidewalk that depicts a life-size woman swaying patiently back and forth. When our walk signal is on, she switches from swaying to walking. I watch her for about four cycles before finally walking myself. I guess it is art, and note to myself to google it as soon as we find wifi. While looking for a place to parallel park at the capital building, a middle-aged man waves us to his spot where he has an hour left on his meter. His little act of kindness – also noted.
We are leaving Indiana to head for Ohio. Night begins to take shape. Street lights flicker past us like lightning. I strain my eyes in the darkness to look at the Indiana map. Squinting, I notice that the capital sits right in the center of the state and every main highway flows in and out of it. The roads feel like veins and all the small towns are cells bringing nourishment from this nucleus. Indianapolis is pumping like a beating heart, pushing its strength into each little village and small town. Maybe its my exhaustion, but I realize that this, and every state is alive. I’m flowing through their veins. As I cross out of Indiana’s borders, I leave my own boundaries as well.
Creative block. It is like trying to get through one of those recorded telephone menus while calling from a rotary phone. Only this is worse because you are battling with yourself instead of a recording. I know the composition in there; I just can’t push the button to get to it. I have sent out emails to galleries in our next few states, and received many positive replies. The problem is that I know they are expecting something great, and knowing of that pressure turns my creativity to mush. This isn’t the first time that I’ve been paralyzed by the pressures of this project. After all, I am finishing a canvas a week, where it usually takes me months just to meddle over an idea! Today, I just feel as if I standing at the edge of black hole, and the only direction available is forward. I know it will pass, I just hope it passes in time for me to make my deadline.
Thankfully, I break through my brick wall just in time to meet with our Indiana gallery. We visit LAMP Fine Art in Indianapolis, where the owner, Jennifer Kaye, is full bubbling over with energy. I love young gallery owners like her because they are less judgmental of our age, and more open to experimental art. The playful painting from Michigan fits in perfectly here! Before leaving, Jennifer shares a little about the city and gives us an insight into what we can expect in Ohio. She said there is a field of cement corn that is slightly controversial, but an oddity like no other. We scribble it into our “must-sees” and continue exploring Indiana.
Indianapolis seems like a very clean city. We enjoy the canal walk, where gondola’s run beneath the city streets, and Arts Garden that arches above them. One of the strangest sights that catch my eye is an LED screen on the sidewalk. The screen depicts a life-size woman standing at the crosswalk. She sways back and forth, and then begins to walk. I can’t understand its purpose, but it is worth noting. At the capital, we look for a place to parallel park, and a middle-aged man waves us to his spot. He is just getting into his car to leave, and as it turns out, has an hour left on his meter. His little act of kindness really brightens our day.
As we are leaving Indiana for Ohio, night begins to take shape, and street lights flicker past us like lighting. I strain my eyes to look at the Indiana map and notice that the capital is right in the center of the state. Main roads appear as roots, with each small town bringing nourishment to the nucleus. As I say goodbye to the Hoosier state, I imagine Indianapolis pumping like a beating heart, pushing its strength into each little village and small town.
