Inspiration is a fickle foe.  It's a photographer's ill treated mistress; an artist's fleeting romantic love. It's something - these days - we're all fighting begging for.

After a weekend of cooking and shooting (photographically) I was worn out.  I did not want to feed myself - did not want to look at my little studio, either.  However, a friend mine inspired me.

At risk of this being a total 'foodie' posting - G-d forbid, I have to give in to my temptations.  My friend, Drew, over at Rock and Roll Chemist , inadvertently talked me into cooking something this evening. (Here I was content with Fruit Loops.)

He loves making Greek salads.  Makes one every night, apparently.  This got me thinking of olives.

I. Love. Olives.

Ok.  Seed has been planted.

So, I got my sorry be-hind out of the office chair and conjured up a meal.

I mixed up some olive oil, chopped some kalamata olives, sprinkles a bit of hot pepper flakes (more so than usual), minced a head of garlic, grabbed a handful of spinach, and boiled a half pound of pasta.  I cried only when I realized I was fresh out of anchovies. (O', the humanity.)

This whole exercise circumvented photography and foodie-hood.

Drew helped me realize it's not about being one or another.  It's about inspiration. (Thank you, Drew.)

Inspiration is what really motivates us as humans and, consequently, as artists.  I didn't shoot all holiday weekend for an uninspired idea;  I shot all holiday weekend for growth. Growth in what I was inspired to do.

Ok, at risk of going on too long . . . (too late) . . . my end point being, always listen to your darker side.  I did not want to cook anything; I did not want to shoot anything. Inspiration will meet us in the end; either around a blind corner, or with a candid comment.

Whether you're a cook, foodie, or a photographer, always give into your inspirations.  In the end, the satisfaction is worth it and you're all the better - and well fed - for it.