My studio is filled with half-started and half-abandoned projects; an amalgam of ideas across disciplines that are constantly arising, renovating, and combining. Dried flowers overlay polaroids, while shot lists run perpendicular to sketches. Fine detailed paintings have been discarded with heavy lettering; inspirational quotes wandering right off the page - and into a cliché.
But there's something to be said for disorder. There's inhibition in scratch marks, fragility in disintegrating petals. Energy in impulsivity. And like anything else, the ordinary holds so much potential.
So I could choose to clear away my base and start fresh.
Or I can choose a new lens.