insert thoughtful title __________

Last night I was stuck, shin-deep in cement. The creative process always has this troublesome spot for me where I get too heady questioning every choice I make.

Is this too crafty?
Is this too narrative?
What’s my intention with this?
Do these things relate to one another?
Am I being too preachy?
Has every centimeter of this piece been expressed before?
Am I copying someone else’s vision?
Will anyone else find value in this work?
Will this look good in the morning?

And it was just moments --- sheer moments --- ago when I was skimming the delicate surface of inspiration. I was there, making the good choices, seeing things playout in their fashionable ways aesthetically, and I was feeling it.

La de dah de dah… la de dah de dah… and then SCHLOOOP! Cement. Soft, squishy, inviting, but unfortunately solidifying. Here I stand, immobile. Artistic potential stalled; in hundreds of cases, including last night, artistic potential extinguished.