It would be a bit dramatic to say that I have felt like I’m climbing a mountain this week.

That would be completely insensitive to those who are actually facing big obstacles. 

So now would be a good time for me to remember some things I’m grateful for: my good health; my comfortable home; my loving Hubs; my wonderful job. A life that is allowing me to make art on the reg.

I am privileged in so many ways, and I never want to be tone deaf about those who are facing real challenges.

I’ll just start by saying that I was faced with a “mountain” of un-inspiration this week. Not really a mountain at all. And hey. I love mountains! I spent ten summers living in the Smoky Mountains, one of my happiest-of-all places. 

I think, rather, what’s happening right now in this year-long process is—I’m smelling the barn. 

I’ve had a memory pop up a lot this week. My first job after college was performing in the outdoor drama, Blue Jacket. One of the perks about outdoor drama is that, if you need horses on stage to help tell the story, you can have horses. This show had twelve horses. 

I am not a horsey person. No horse experience whatsoever. I was not hired to work with horses. Except—I understudied the lead female role, Blue Jacket’s love interest. And I was guaranteed a performance. One night, late in the summer, I was going to have to ride off into the horizon beside Blue Jacket, each of us on a beautiful white, bare-backed horse. 

As my performance date approached, part of my preparation included riding one of the twelve horses back to the barn after the show.

“Don’t worry, Dina. It’s pitch black, but the horses know the way. Don’t worry, Dina. We’ll give you the oldest horse, Blue. She’ll be slow and gentle.” 

Fine.

I mounted Blue. No stirrups, no reins, no saddle. No one mentioned that an older horse is going to have a bonier spine. Ow.

I digress.

Blue and I joined the group as we all headed towards the barn. It was true. The horses knew the way. And as we got closer, their pace started to pick up just a bit. And I, not knowing what the hell I was doing, adjusted myself in some way that signaled to Blue that I wanted her to go faster. Being the clever creature that she was, she went faster.

Being the idiot that I was, I slowly and uncontrollably tilted to the right until my back hit the ground. Had it not been pitch black, I’m sure I would have looked hilarious. 

Thankfully, I was not injured, and I got right back on and made it to the barn. I had simultaneous feelings of idiocy and badassery.

INNER CRITIC URSULA: Is this a long story?

ME: There you are! I knew you’d show up today.

URSULA: You’re welcome. Does this story have a point?

My point is—this week I have made it two-thirds of the way through this challenge. I can smell the barn. In fact, I am starting to imagine other barns beyond this barn. If I had a bit in my mouth, I’d be chomping at it.

But I have to make it to this barn first. When I began this challenge, one of my motivating factors was creating a regular art practice. I also wanted to see how a regular and frequent practice would impact my style and choices.

This week I have felt like both the horse and the rider. I can smell the barn and I want to get there. I want to rush the process, but I risk falling. Now I am wondering, has my routine become a rut?

I felt uninspired this week. I procrastinated reading the magazine. That means I don’t get to read as much of it. That means I will have fewer words to choose from for the title. That means my inspiration will have to come from…? 

The time came where I just had to make a choice. And I did. And I don’t love it. 

INNER CHEERLEADER JULES: Why don’t we just call this one an experiment?

URSULA: That’s a choice.

Fine. It is kind of an experiment. I wanted to see what would happen if I layered the paper so that there is sort of a 3-D effect. That’s twenty-one layers of paper. I used every single page in the magazine—when you take out the staples and leave the pages as wide rectangles. 

There’s a lot of glue in there, so this one is heavier than the others. Mountainous. I was picturing my beloved Smokeys, and I also had in mind those maps that show elevation. Hence, the ink outlines.

Sometimes, when I have a design in mind, I am so excited to get to it and see it come to fruition. This one, not so much. So, we’ll put this one in the experiment pile and get back on the horse and keep heading towards the barn.

JULES: At least it’s not an uphill climb!

URSULA: It’s just art.

JULES: For art’s sake! 

Right and right. 

BTW, by the time I went on in my understudy role, it was a huge adrenaline rush all the way through the show to the final scene. I had approximately 3.2 seconds to throw on some age make-up and do a quick-change into my last costume—a white fringed faux-leather outfit that matched Blue Jacket’s. We went back on stage and said all of our words. We mounted our horses. The exit music began, and right on cue, the horses crossed to downstage center, turned to head up center, and exited into the horizon. 

I did it! And I don’t think a single person in the audience could tell that my costume was on backwards.

THIS WEEK’S FEATURED CARTOON

READ PREVIOUS POST | READ NEXT POST