I don’t try to convey my emotions through my art. Emotions change all the time. They are my weather. I want to convey my climate.

I’m sure my emotions sneak into my art or my writing, but if I am feeling too strong of an emotion, I most likely won’t be creating. My energy will be distracted by the experience of intense sadness, anger or even joy. That’s the living that I may write or paint about later.

Emotion is very different from creative energy. I think emotion can be influenced by external sources, but creative energy comes from within.

The flurry of disappointment, the shadow of grief, unbridled joy have to go through the filters and join with everything else I have felt in order to come out again as creative expression. They have to seep through the layers and contribute to the stalactites that hang in the cavern of my skull. You see, not everything sticks. Not everything is remembered. Even less is remembered accurately.

I can’t guarantee facts. I’ll give you my version of things.

Inspiration finds me. I rarely go looking for it. There are times when I grab my camera and go for a drive looking for something to photograph, but that’s not what I call inspiration.

Inspiration seems to come from anywhere. It doesn’t often come to me from the big events of life. Those are the weather. When I feel something long enough that it becomes a part of me, it withstands the emotion. Then one day, maybe several decades later, it comes bubbling up with quiet significance. I can look at it with comfort, whether it caused me happiness or hurt. I can come to terms with it. I can own it and defuse it or celebrate it.