To Remove the Inky Struggle
The inkwell of The Inktoberist’s mind is a deep, turbulent sea. Some days, waves of inspiration crash against the shores of her consciousness leaving behind treasures untold. On those days her pen dances effortlessly across the page, stories and pictures flowing like magic marks.
But on other days, the sea is still, its surface unbroken by even the smallest ripple of an idea. Those are the days that fill her with dread and fear. What will she draw today? The ink gods have dropped their word from the inky sky, and all the sketchinkers, from the most brilliant to the humblest beginner, must abide by this parameter. The challenge is a mighty one, and sometimes it feels almost insurmountable.
“Why do I do this to myself?” she wonders as she sits at her drawing table, the blank page in front of her a vast, empty expanse mocking her with its bleached face. The weight of expectation presses down like a demon sitting on her head. She has not only accepted the challenge of drawing every day for the entire month of October, but she has also added the burden of storytelling. A tale to go with each marked sketchbook page. This was her crazy way of making the challenge more demanding, of pushing herself to the limits of her creativity.
Now, as the weeks wear on, she feels the strain. Her friends are neglected, her dogs are walked late at night, the pots and pans are left until midnight, and it’s just a bowl of cereal for dinner. All for the sake of the challenge. All for the sake of her art.
She knows she cannot remove herself from this mighty event. To do so would be to admit failure, to let down her inky following, and to lose the respect of her masters. And so she persists, her eyes heavy with fatigue, her mind a whirlwind of chaos. And yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the cold tea by her side, she finds solace in her art. In the act of creating she is transported to another world; a world where the chaos of her day fades away and all that remains is the pen in her hand and the story unfolding before her. In those moments she is free. She is The Inktoberist. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Five days remaining and counting…
Inktober 2023
31 Days – 31 Drawings – 31 Tales
8 Comments on Inktober Remove
Rick
26th Oct, 2023 09:10
Took something on there didn’t you!
Jules Smith
26th Oct, 2023 09:10
Oh yes, Rick. You’d think I’d have learnt by now!
LL
26th Oct, 2023 09:10
“Inktoberist” – there’s a new word.
I find that forced creativity doesn’t work well, but you manage both the art and the philosophy. Of course, Tex is your muse, so you have an advantage over the rest of mortality.
Jules Smith
26th Oct, 2023 16:10
Yes, it goes beautifully with The Art Philosopher.
Forcing isn’t good but discipline is – or so they tell me. I’m not a fan.
I do have that, though he tends to get irritated with me sitting in one place for hours and begins to act up!
the late phoenix
26th Oct, 2023 14:10
I JOIN with you in this struggle of the artist, mah dahlin, I know exactly how you feel, it’s tough to come up with something every single day. I’ve been going through this here at this blogspot spot for…well it seems like it’s been 30 years…
omg the Pink Pearl eraser!!! I remember it well down at St. Cyril’s of Jerusalem in Encino. my best friend to ever live Lucio Rossi one day brought to school a GIANT Pink Pearl eraser that weighed 700 pounds and said on it:
FOR BIG MISTAKES
needless to say Lucio won Show and Tell that week.
The Inktoberist: sounds like an indie band from Vermont…
*)
Jules Smith
26th Oct, 2023 16:10
I’m hoping it will take me somewhere and I’ll become a genius at something. You have to live in hope or what is the point of it all?
I can’t find my Pink Pearl now. I think the wolf ate it.
I like that – FOR BIG MISTAKES.
The Sketchinkers sound like a bunch of skets at a cocktail party. *)
LSP
27th Oct, 2023 03:10
Hey, write on. And, by way of, er, whimsy, check out the Gormenghast novels, if you haven’t. Inspirational, perhaps.
Speaking of writing, some person crashed our table at the Lit Review club in Soho years ago. “What do you do?” asked the table and he replied, “I’m a writer.” Shocked silence, “Neither am I,” replied one eminent journo from etc.
Nice club that, the Lit Review, Auberon ‘Bron Waugh’s setup.
Cheers.
Jules Smith
27th Oct, 2023 05:10
I will check them out, thank you for the recommendation!
That is a brilliant retort! Haha! I might have to use that if given the opportunity.
And the there’s always unicorn hunting.
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