the transformative power of making art

After making the tiny drawing of the word 'hopeless', following the intense struggle which took place in attempting to realise it, I feel curiously uplifted, as though a burden has been taken from me. I am conscious of a new lightness in my demeanour, a pleasant sense of having achieved something, however slight it may seem to be, a willingness to experiment further. These gladdening feelings take the stead of the crushing sense of defeat and mediocrity which had come to be my familiar companions. The transformation is subtle, nevertheless, I see no change in the face that stares back at me from the mirror. It is internally that the difference has been wrought, and as yet, it does not show in my eyes, which retain their anxious mien. But a glow has been kindled, albeit inconsistent, susceptible as it is to sudden draughts of despair and lack of faith, and by its fragile light I may find myself once more treading the path that leads from the darkness.