I don’t like blank white pages. I find something daunting about a blank canvas, an empty sketchbook, or a clean sheet of a paper. I can’t explain what I dislike exactly–
I suppose something inside of me dreads the potential failure of each work. That first mark feels like such a commitment to the work. Each work begins with equal potential of ending as a successful composition or an awkward disaster. Each first mark always feels a little wrong and off. I always second-guess myself.
I’ve learned what works best for me is to move well past that first mark, before I even have time to think about it. I let the excitement of starting a new project silence the the negative analytic voice in my head. I splash water and drip colored inks. The colors blend and bleed into the white pages. I glue various papers to add new patterns, colors, and textures.
Once I begin this process, I feel completely at ease—with the white pages messy, wet, and gluey, I feel happy and confident. My work becomes intuitive, and I know that the color and ink will bleed into themselves however they will. And however that is, it will be fine.