Pearls from artists* # 666
With “Harbinger,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 35” x 28.5” framed
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With “Harbinger,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 35” x 28.5” framed
” data-medium-file=”https://barbararachkoscoloreddust.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/img_2855.jpeg?w=300″ data-large-file=”https://barbararachkoscoloreddust.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/img_2855.jpeg?w=604″ src=”https://barbararachkoscoloreddust.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/img_2855.jpeg?w=604″ alt=”With “Harbinger,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 35” x 28.5” framed” class=”wp-image-16479″ style=”width:544px;height:auto” />
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
Most of my writing life consists of nothing more than unglamorous, disciplined labor. I sit at my desk and I work like a farmer, and that’s how it gets done. Most of it is not fairy dust in the least.
But sometimes it is fairy dust. Sometimes when I’m in the midst of writing, I feel like I am suddenly walking on one of those moving sidewalks that you find in a big airport terminal; I still have a long slog to my gate. And my luggage is still heavy, but I can feel myself being gently propelled by some exterior force. Something is carrying me along – something powerful and generous – and that something is decidedly not me.
You may know this feeling. It’s the feeling you get when you’ve made something wonderful, or done something wonderful, and when you look back at it later, all you can say is: “I don’t even know where that came from.”
Elizabeth Gilbert in Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear
Comments are welcome!
