by Daniel A. Nicholls. Poetry, art, and related problems.
All too soon, at dawn on the next day, the crew launched the boat. Tears choked Narichika as he journeyed. Short though his future seemed, his dew-like life continued: the white waves rose in the wake, the capital receded gradually into the distance, and the province of exile drew closer as the days accumulated. The sailors brought the craft in to Kojima in Bizen; the warriors deposited their captive in a squalid, brushwood-thatched commoner’s shack. As is the way with islands, mountains rose to the rear, the sea stretched in front, winds sighed through the shore pines, and waves crashed on the beach. There was nothing that did not evoke painful feelings. Heike Monogatari, tr. Helen Craig McCullough, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988), pg. 80. (via akeenerheart)
“What will sustain you with any difficulty in your art is your love for that art. So if you’re having problems with your art, you’ve got to re-immerse yourself in your love of it … I always tell anyone who’s a writer who’s like “I got a writer’s block” like, fifty novels in a hundred and fifty days. You will be reminded of why you love this shit. You won’t even get to fifty — no, the love will return.
I think part of the problem is that we think that we can muscle through this shit … if you grew up like me, powering through shit was the way we survived. You’re like, I’m two-hundred dollars in debt? I can work thirty-six hours straight. Art doesn’t respond to that. Art does not respond to the whip. Our bodies do, but art isn’t about our bodies. And so you’ve got to move away from the “powering through it,” it isn’t going to work.” Junot Díaz, on the cure for creative/writer’s “block” (via xaymacans)
startlingly simple, good insight.