Blank Paper Syndrome

I have been unable to draw since Quinn was born, and not just because he is all consuming, but because he was life altering. My older work feels a million miles away and I am unable to connect to how it even came to be. I am craving sharp pencils and crisp paper and the smell of ink and coffee, but am paralyzed with the wonder of what might show up there. Someone recently asked me, “What have you done to release the trauma of Quinn’s birth?” I think that the images of babies dying is still too near. I have found myself returning to photos … Their seems to be instant gratification here, but I know my hands need to get dirtier than that.