A block greater than the Rock of Gibraltar wedged itself between my creativity and photographic skills. Try as I might, the eye and the camera were not cooperating. One saw one thing, and the other recorded something different. Yes, I was officially a blocked artist. A blocked photographer to be exact.
Dejection stepped in to offer help toward building a bigger block with every attempt I made to shake the cycloptic blues. My shutter finger grew restless. It fidgeted with every dial, button, and switch it found, and when there wasn’t any around, it toyed with pens and pencils.
It scribbled a couple of lines on a scrap of paper, and a then a few more. I had no idea what it was up to, but my shutter finger was pleased. I allowed both pencil and finger to merge into one, and dance across the page, until designs evolved into subconscious symbols of something I didn’t understand. Ah, yes, an absentminded creation. A full- fledged doodle.