Often times inspirations come from others, and if I'm so lucky as to have a conversation about the creative process or method or idea, a part of my mind buzzing with electricity trying to retain whatever was gleaned, filing away key points, while other parts are already formulating forms, color schemes, compositions, etc., etc,. etc.
But then as something arrives in view, on the lens or canvas, and as the magnetic draw to the work zone is entered, it becomes a completely solitary experience. I have found that the ability to multitask, even to perform a mundane task for thousandth time, is not only deliberately delayed but has decided to leave the room on it's own until further notice.
Grateful for all community who share their genius and imagination.
And for the solitude to hear and sing my own song. ~ tmb

While I still often strive to find the "right" words, there has been a new found embrace for throwing my hands up. Finding that since I'm more seasoned (and jaded), with events seeming  to pound us everyday with levels of absurdity never before witnessed, I will take the time to escape.
One would think, and it does surprise me often, that the expression of my art on those days would offer frustration or anger, yet there is a draw to the soft.
Maybe it's a dream, or a hope, I don't know. But I'll admit it is a default expression often, along with yoga or music.