Jean Burman

artwork & content Copyright Jean Burman 2007

“Writing is easy: all you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead” - Gene Fowler

As you can see today’s topic is The Perfectly Blank Canvas… so I think it’s rather odd that as I sit here pondering where to start… it occurs to me that I actually do have a perfectly blank sheet of paper in front of me (oh okay… computer screen… but it’s still b-l-a-n-k!) and suddenly I have absolutely no idea what to say!

This is unusual for me, as those who know me well, can vouch for the fact that I am seldom without words! (((giggles)))

Did I jinx myself simply by writing down the title of this post!

But wait… look what’s happened here! By writing about the blank sheet I’ve found some words! They aren’t the words I was looking for, and they aren’t the ones I needed to discuss the problem of how an artist (or writer) can overcome the sudden departure of “the muse”… but they are nonetheless “words”… and as if by magic… I no longer have a blank sheet with which to start!

Yessss… progress!
So is the solution to the perfectly blank canvas simply to start? Maybe it is. And perhaps that is what this blog is all about. Doing the thing… making the work… and finding the courage to let it just happen.

Most artists suffer from blank canvas syndrome at some time or another. Some are afflicted every once in a while. Some are afflicted each and every time a new work is begun. Others still fail to create for years on end… simply because they cannot start.

In one of my favourite books, Art & Fear, by David Bayles and Ted Orland, the authors discuss the many and varied reasons why so many of us hesitate… and sometimes fail… and why some give up trying altogether!

The comforting thing to know is that this is a common experience. By it’s very nature the creative process should ebb and flow. Whether progress is made in small increments or in giant leaps… it always seems to move within some pre-ordained timeframe as if to say, “at this time, this is what is meant to be“. Most of us store paintings/stories in our heads to one day bring to life. I have come to suspect that these paintings and stories will all be born in their own good time!

So I guess… it’s in the doing of it that we ultimately get the work done… it’s in the not knowing how to go about it that we learn to meet the challenge… and it’s in the courage that we find by going it alone… that we get to know ourselves intimately enough to have faith in what we do without reference to anyone else.

Largely, we must let go of fear before we can truly become ourselves. And that goes for more than just art…

Would love to hear what YOU think! Comments always welcome…

artwork & content Copyright Jean Burman 2007
I just realised that I’ve asked you all over for coffee, so thought I’d better get a brew going and whip up some cup cakes! Sorry about the one that fell off the plate… I just couldn’t wait to get first chomp at the cherry! Sorry… again.

I know it’s not a Cafe in Paris, down a small lane in Montmartre, but maybe we can sip along here together and i~m~a~g~i~n~e it? Afterall, that’s what artists do best isn’t it… imagine? And you thought I meant “sit around and drink coffee” didn’t you? Well we’re pretty good at that too! It’s a classic avoidance technique. When the glare of the naked white canvas/paper is too much to bear… and that very first stroke of the brush just won’t come… we don our Paris Hilton sunnies and head down to the nearest Starbucks for a cafe latte. (That’s a very long walk for me, over 2000 kilometres, but… hey I’m an artist…I can imagine it!) Ah… the sweet aromatic comfort of good coffee… *sigh*

We may not have a Starbucks here but we do have Skybury otherwise known as the Australian Coffee Centre. It’s located about an hour’s drive west of Cairns in the tropical tablelands. It’s elevated, slightly cooler and drier climate is a welcome relief from the sweltering tropical heat we have been enduring here lately… and it’s perfect for growing beautiful aromatic coffee. Although mostly a tea girl of late, I have to say when I heard that Skybury were exporting a unique style of coffee to the cafes of Paris, my interest in sampling it was piqued. The coffee is called Peaberry and it’s a special pick of the very smallest green beans on the end of the shoot. Once roasted these small beans have a unique flavour and aroma and produce a coffee which is naturally sweet.

So on the Sunday of the Australia Day weekend we headed west to Skybury. The main building on the plantation is an interesting one, a wooden pole house type structure hanging from a craggy granite outcrop overlooking one of the most impressively beautiful valleys I have ever seen. It’s different here. Left behind on the Coast are the deep waxy greens of tropical foliage we are used to… in this place the trees are all eucalypts in relatively dry open forest country. It’s pure Australiana. With recent rain though it was a picture of verdant blue grey green (okay I’m an artist - I can say blue grey green!)

We took a seat on the deck and ordered lunch. The valley stretched out for miles in front of us to the distant blue hills… and the view was interrupted only by the occasional distant passing rain skud. By the time coffee was served the storm that had been brewing in the west unleashed it’s fury and amid an impressive display of lightning and thunder proceeded to dump inches of rain on the landscape. As we were now part of that landscape on the outside deck… of course we got a bit wet… but it was warm rain and nobody seemed to mind the show. Reluctant to leave the deck… most people simply pulled their tables and chairs back against the wall as far as possible and let the devil take the hintermost. After the rain the air smelt good… so clean and green and fresh.

As it turned out… the coffee took a backseat to the panorama and atmosphere of the place and the day… but we did buy a rather large bag of Exclusive Peaberry Medium Roast to take home with us. Now we can drink the coffee the French sip in the cafes of Paris whenever we feel like brewing a pot. Ah… who needs Montmartre? Well… maybe I still do… afterall I haven’t tried absinthe yet… hmmm maybe I’ll have a bit more think about that.