Archibald Campbell in his journal, December 4.
(Visit here for more on Archibald).

. . .

What is really going underneath the bullshit I tell myself about myself? Step back. Relax. Get perspective.

I sit here in my little cabin in the woods, surrounded by unfinished paintings, new ideas bubbling up. We’ve met the enemy and he is us, as Pogo said. Why can’t I focus on one project to completion before moving on to the next?

I’m fascinated by the work of many other artists – not all, not even most, but I’m constantly searching for ideas in the work of others. And yet, all of my own work — the hundred or so images out of the thousands I’ve painted and sold — that I like most all have similar characteristics and are different from the work of others. Why can’t I just focus on perfecting that technique – loose, semi-abstract, sketch-like — images that capture something interesting, and perhaps indescribable, of the underlying energy of the subject, usually a bird. Birds are such magical creatures. We humans can do a lot of things, our imagination is truly magnificent, but we can’t flit from tree branch to tree branch, or soar with the thermals on a whim.

So anyway, I seem to be avoiding the subject, the problem. The problem is focus. The problem is consistency. The problem is an attraction to change that exceeds logic. Counterproductive change.

Why? I’m not sure. A volatile childhood maybe. An unpredictable, unhappy, perpetually disappointed mother. A largely absent father. Constant moving. I think that in our adult lives we relive the drama of our youth, particularly if we get good at dealing with it. We gravitate to scenarios where we feel good about ourselves, where we triumphed as youngsters. Where we found solutions and peace, particularly in our early most formative years. If we got good at change in childhood, we seek out change as adults. Is that all there is to it?

Well, I think there’s also imagination. I feel most comfortable deep in imaginary worlds. I find solace there. I became comfortable alone early on.

Anyway, what am I going to do about my lack of focus, of consistency, now that I’m an old dog? An old dog struggling to learn new tricks, like how to deal with myself. Make a rule? No new projects, no new paintings, until you’re done with the last. I’ve never found a rule, whether I’m the maker or some anonymous bureaucrat somewhere, that I didn’t enjoy breaking, or at least ignoring. I make rules all the time and rarely stick with them. And I’ve never met an interesting person who didn’t like breaking rules. It’s like Isabel Allende says,

Heart is what drives us and determines our fate. That is what I need for my characters in my books: a passionate heart. I need mavericks, dissidents, adventurers, outsiders and rebels, who ask questions, bend the rules and take risks. . . Nice people with common sense do not make interesting characters. They only make good former spouses.
- from a TED talk, ("Tales of Passion")

That’s good because I’m a lousy former spouse. I have a passionate heart. On the other hand, I notice Isabel has a lot of discipline. She finishes projects. Her books are not just thrown together. There’s a lot of deep thought there, a lot of reworking of first ideas. And a lot of passion.

So ultimately, I guess, it comes down to whether or not I can develop the internal momentum and discipline to change what needs to be changed in order to get everything I want out of the remaining years left to me, as few or many as those may turn out to be. Changing oneself isn’t easy. On the other hand, in my life I have displayed a degree of skill at change and adaptation. So we’ll just have to see, I guess.

I’m like a dog chained to a tree. Time goes on, I go round and round, and the chain gets shorter and shorter. Fortunate for me, I guess, that tree I’m chained to is friendship with myself.