In the Zone

I've always wondered how I could sit down in front of an unfinished work with a steaming cup of coffee, and just sit there, staring at the canvas until I am almost done with my cup. I normally get restless easily, but in front of my unfinished works, I can sit there contemplating for hours.

And then there are moments when I would snap out of a painting and drawing frenzy of sorts, and be surprised with the results. It's almost the same when I write: I'd lay out my outline, then after the first shaky and forced paragraphs, a flood of words and thoughts would ensue and I'd be tapping out pages for extended periods of time until I snap out of it - usually when it's time for a coffee refill.

I sometimes wonder if it was really me who painted or drew the face that was staring back at me. Sometimes, I don't remember how I ended up with my finished pieces.

It's odd that way.