Dragging My Feet

The opening for my upcoming show continues to loom larger and I'm struggling with every little detail and I have no idea why. Nothing, but nothing, is coming to me easily. Is it because I have no studio space to work in? It's been extremely difficult to stay motivated when I need to constantly pick my work up and put it safely away when I'm no longer alone at the end of the day. Is it because I lost so much time with that ridiculously stupid hand injury last winter? I had high hopes of finishing a completely new series of pieces for this exhibit, but that fell by the wayside due to both of these circumstances. This show was scheduled with only six and half months lead time, so maybe by agreeing to such a close date and expecting myself to be able to churn out a dozen or more well-executed new works in that short amount of time I bit off more than I could chew, all circumstances aside. Maybe my apathy is because in the end I've had to settle for using a group of older works. Granted, these are pieces very few people have seen and they are far more mainstream taste-wise than what I had been working on, but they aren't new and that tends to make for less personal excitement to see them on display.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not making excuses. I'm merely trying to figure out what the hell my problem is. How can I be incapable of writing a biography or even an artist's statement for godssakes? Granted, I have been on a self-imposed sabbatical from showing for a few years, but come on, none of this is new to me so it shouldn't be the herculean task it currently is. I find this all very interesting. I don't understand it, but a part of me is wildly intrigued by what is going on with me, curious as to why I'm faltering so and more than a little perturbed with myself as well.

I'll get it all done and with time to spare, but will it be easy? Not on my life.