Chapter 2: "The Creative Block"

It was a new day in New York City, and the morning sun was forming shadows on the busy streets as Alex made his way to the Beanery, his refuge. The old coffee shop, with its walls painted in red bricks and furniture of a diverse and shabby-chic style, was a perfect place for artists, writers, and dreamers who needed inspiration in the storm of the city. As Alex opened the wide wooden door, he was welcomed by the mouth-watering smell of freshly ground coffee beans. The smell reassured him for a moment and dispelled the pressure that he had been experiencing for weeks due to writers’ block. He went to the counter and asked for a large black coffee without sugar, and then located the best seat—a corner by the window—to observe the people and draw. Sitting down in a leather armchair that was looking rather old, Alex took out the sketchbook, which contained numerous ideas that were left half-way through and sketches of ideas that were never to be continued. He slowly took a sip of his coffee and enjoyed the bitter taste of it while looking at the guests of various types. A set of college students were sitting together with their computers, and they were typing and talking, though not so loudly, with intermittent giggling. An old man with a gray beard was sitting in a corner and writing something in a large leather-bound diary with clear and precise gestures of his aged hands. Alex’s phone rang, and this interrupted Alex's concentration for a while. A message from Taylor lit up the screen: Hello everyone! I just wanted to inform all of you that there is a cabin trip this weekend, and I am really looking forward to it. It's going to be fun!’ Nodding at him with a brief and courteous grin that never touched his pupils, Alex eased Taylor's aggression. Taylor was so passionate that, typing the comment on the text message, one could easily read the emotions. The thought of getting away from the noise of the city and instead being in the mountains, even if for a few days, was thrilling and, at the same time, a little frightening. The two hardly went out since they could not spare time for themselves; jobs and other activities took most of their time. It was a chance to just lay back, think, and probably face the feelings that may have been brewing in this friendship between them. Alex typed a short reply, and his mind went blank to their conversation that they had the previous day. Taylor had always been supportive and had always motivated him; however, this time she was unlike the usual cheerful Taylor; she looked distraught and helpless. Now it was impossible even to be sure that she thought as he did and had the same new point of view in her as he had in himself. Alex rubbed his head to minimize all the thoughts that had filled his mind, and then he got back to his sketching paper. He began the book with visions of the city, non-figurative figures, and the human faces’ outlines that were left in the state of the author’s pre-crisis emotional collapse. His work was becoming a torture routine; he was unable to devote as much time as he used to to his work. He wanted something different; he wanted change, but inspiration did not come. "Alex, is that you?” A voice he recognized as belonging to Jake's thoughts. interrupted Up and to the left, Alex saw Lena, a fellow artist from college with the most stunning blue eyes he had ever seen. She had fiery auburn hair falling to the middle of her back and still had her college bohemian look. “Lena!” Alex cried, getting up from the chair in surprise. “It has been ages since we last met, isn’t it?” She could smell lavender and oil paints on her; that was the fragrance she always got after painting late into the night. “What do you come looking for here?” he inquired, pointing her towards him. Lena gracefully got into the chair opposite Alex, looking very excited. “Well, actually, I've been here for a while now. I was just finishing the gallery tour across Europe and thought I should return to my origins.” Alex and the girl became comfortable with each other and started to discuss what they had done in their lives and work. Lena often told Alex about her trips; they were the ones she liked the most: the art districts of Berlin, the studios of Barcelona illuminated by the sun, and avant-garde exhibitions in Paris. She was passionate, and Alex could not help but become engrossed in the stories she told him and the problems she narrated; he momentarily left his writer’s block. “You know, Alex,” Lena said, bending over a little and looking into his eyes, “sometimes it is enough to change the environment or the view on a problem to come through the creative crisis. ” Alex listened to her and to her words, nodding in agreement. “I must confess, I have been feeling bogged down lately, not only with my art but with other things as well,” he said, thinking of Taylor and the mixed signals he had been receiving in the recent past. ‘Other things? Like what?’ Lena questioned her, as she always had a knack for getting to the point. Alex hesitated, then sighed. ”It’s Taylor. I think. . . I think I am falling for her, and that scares the hell out of me.” Their laughter was light and musical, and Lena’s voice was light and high-pitched. The 'Friends with Benefits’ or ‘Friends turned Lovers’ plotline is rather complex, yet it is not an unachievable thing at all. Sometimes, those emotions are hidden deep within one’s heart, and they stay there, waiting for the proper moment to come and reveal themselves. Alex raked a hand through his hair, showing that he had not outgrown it despite his now mature look. ‘But what if it spoils it all? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?’ ''Well, that is a risk, I suppose,’’ Lena agreed, her words carrying a hint of contemplation. ‘But how much longer can you go on as you are now?’ To risk something is often the only way to progress, both in art and in love. Their conversation was cut short when Lena’s friend joined them, meaning that Lena could not prolong her reunion with her friend. Then it was time to go, and when they embraced and exchanged telephone numbers and e-mail addresses, Alex realized that he was experiencing a rather complex set of feelings, which included hope, fear, and, rather surprisingly, anticipation. Might this next trip to the cabin be the shift he required for his work and for him and Taylor? Back to his sketchbook, Alex picked up the pencil and drew with a lot more energy than before. Thus, the lines flowed more freely as the shapes that started to appear did not have the hesitation that was previously apparent. It was not the best that could be done, but it was good enough and seemed to be in the right direction. To keep his hands focused on his work, he let his head go blank and remembered Taylor—how she brightened up when she spoke about something she enjoyed, how she laughed, and how she made him feel when she was by his side. Thus, the more Alex thought of it, the more he came to the conclusion that he could not afford to turn a blind eye to what he experienced. The creative block, the feeling of unease he had—all these originated from the same root. That was clear. He was holding back, scared of what may come if he opens up, if he lets himself experience emotions. Perhaps, and this is a very big possibility, this trip would help him clear his head and find the answers he sought. As the Beanery got crowded with people who came to have their lunch, Alex also drained the coffee, which was cold by then, and stowed his things. He felt lighter and more hopeful than he had been in days. The weekend was coming, and it was a new chance to start something new or to change something. As for whether it would be a revolution in his artwork or a change in his relationship with Taylor, Alex was ready to accept everything. Leaving the building and getting to the street with crowded throngs of people, Alex felt much more perceiving the vibrations of the surrounding world. Whereas before the noise of car honks, vendors, and conversation rushed into my ears like an aggressive assault, now it has become the music of life and opportunities. He walked back to his loft with his head filled with thoughts and strategies for the trip. Alex looked around his messy yet methodical apartment. Contemporary paintings were not fully completed; they were haphazardly placed on the walls, papers were filed on numerous shelves, and art materials cluttered all available spaces. It was a physical representation of the creative process that he was going through, with the highs and the lows all condensed into one work. But now, when he considered all this, he began to regain his former desire to act and do something. When the sun was setting and the view of the city skyline from his window was painted gold, Alex put on his glasses and started planning for the weekend. He took extra care in packing his favorite sketch book and an assortment of pencils and charcoal, and he thought about what it was he could come up with on this mountain getaway. Even the chance to face his feelings for Taylor was thrilling and, at the same time, made him nervous. Yet Lena’s words were with him—sometimes, only a risk can be an option if one wants to change something. He understood that it was not going to be a walk in the park, having to constantly adapt to the new changes in the nature of their relationship and the unpredictable future. But for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to try, which was something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Alex looked at the new sketch he began; it was not very detailed, but it was the beginning of a new creation. It was a small step, but it was a step forward, of course. With each evening that he spent in New York, he felt that tension growing. This weekend could be the turning point, and he was ready to find out where it might take him. As for what happened next, he understood that he could not have failed to take this opportunity. It was time to go on, to look for the future, and to learn how this road would transform him and Taylor.