I’m trying to figure out if my creative lows are caused by a lack of passion. I’d like to think that it’s not true. I feel passionate about many things, including my work.

But then I spend time with my friend E and I really have to wonder.

E is the epitome of passion. She’s passionate about her work. She’s passionate about her boyfriend. She’s passionate about her family. She’s passionate about the arts. This passion oozes into everything she does and every conversation she has.

And it’s incredibly infectious.

I spent a good amount of time with her this past Tuesday evening working on not-so-secret-project-that-I-will-reveal-later. A lot of that time was spent talking about my art. To say she likes my work would be an understatement. She loves the colours and textures I use, and was SO excited when I let another person touch a canvas. I offered to let her touch one, but she might have exploded with glee if she had taken me up on my offer. She asked insightful questions about the art and managed to bring me out of shell and speak about my work, which I never find is an easy thing to do. I was so at ease and excited that I managed to speak to complete strangers about my work, my techniques, and the materials I use. I wish it was always that easy.

A complete stranger was awed by this arsenal of Golden fluid acrylics.

Even though we wrapped up late at night, her enthusiasm had me up and excited into the next day.

What just happened? I was in the middle of a creative low and suddenly I want to work on all the paintings all at once? Is my own passion not enough? Apparently not.

I need to get out more and talk about art more. There’s an art community out there and I need to get more involved. Only by speaking about my work with others can I build and show my passion for it. By writing about it I can better develop the language I need to use.

Darn. It always comes back to that writing thing, doesn’t it?