William DeBuys, in The Walk, a chronicle of years spent walking the same path on his land in the Southwest, says that “a species of hope resides in the possibility of seeing one thing, one phenomenon or essence, so clearly and fully that the light of its understanding illuminates the rest of your life. Almost any object of contemplation can be the vehicle for such discovery.” (p. 1)

The naturalist, artist, and river-runner Ellen Meloy says: “When you truly understand one thing—a hawk, a juniper tree, a rock—you begin to understand everything . . . to know the nature of a single living thing, the facts of life other than my own . . . ” (p. 18, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild)

If you are engaged in creating visual art or design in the world, for all to see or for none to view, you might ask: “What object or subject or experience do I understand clearly and fully? And can this understanding shed light on the rest of life?”

One thing I understand is this: the process of creating new visual work is a dance, an ebb and flow, a rise and fall, a basin and range; filled with varying levels of interest and enjoyment. Some weeks everything flows well and easily; there is effort, but no straining, and one moment slips smoothly into the next. Some days things just bump along, and it’s all sharp edges.

Only by continuing, by picking up the pencil and sketchbook again, or by sitting down and becoming engrossed in creating new digital works — only by continuing does the work flow well again.