When I have a lot to do, I freeze. I become afraid of failure, unable to begin any of the work at all. My brain is locked. I don't have the key.
But then I draw, I let my thoughts flyyyyy out of the cages and SOAR onto the paper. The wall. The dress form. The table. The dish. The mantel.
Art sets my mind free, makes me ready for anything. It soothes me. It organizes my thoughts. It prepares me.
So I did this today, wrote "DON'T BE AFRAID" on my dress form. I purposefully did it in red. For passion. GO.
And for some reason, after I finished writing out the phrase, I felt better. It was like for the first time I admitted that procrastination comes from a place of fear, a fear of failure. I acknowledged it, kicked it in the ASS, smiled, and moved on.
Something about this blog format wigs me out. It overcomplicates my thoughts, muddling them. Maybe it's the little beige box, surrounding my words, keeping them all neat and aligned. Or maybe it's my irritation with the limited formatting options. But something about this method of expression bothers me.
I want to be able to touch my work, let my handwriting loop more loosely as I daydream, doodle. I so much prefer writing out my ideas than typing.
I've always been the kind of person to let things develop freely, by themselves. I like to watch my art create itself, rather than forcing it to be created. My hand carries out my thoughts on a page, or a wall, or a piece of wood. There is no such thing as a mistake, every mark matters, means something, contributes to the overall message.
My art digs deeper into my mind than my mind itself, teaching me about myself, and about my thoughts.
Take this piece for example:
This piece originated from the mess of another piece.
I love using my fingers to paint. I feel so much more connected to the art that way. Needless to say, it gets a little messy. After completing a finger painting of a flying lady, my hands needed some serious cleaning. I decided to press my palms onto several sheets of paper to get some of the wet paint off before touching the sink's faucet. But when I looked at all hand prints, I was inspired to turn them into art. I sat down and started drawing immediately.
For the above piece, I started by tracing the outline of my hand four times in pencil over the hand prints. Then, I outlined the spaces between the fingers. When I stepped away from the paper, I noticed that the many outlines looked like a grenade. The piece immediately took a social justice turn for me. So, I added the sun on the bottom right, and the earth with its moon on the bottom left.
...a couple messy hand prints led to some hand tracing...
...which led to a grenade...
...which led to a social justice interpretation...
...which led me to draw the sun and earth...
In the end, the piece became about humanity and its control over the balance between life and destruction. The many different colors of paint used in the hand prints represent the many different people responsible for humanity's pain. The hands form and hold the grenade, but sit on top of the earth, suggesting humanity is responsible for bringing destruction to the earth.
So, I like learning from my art. I like learning from its development. I like going in with a mess and finding the beauty. I like starting with a doodle and making it a masterpiece.
When we are young, we are free. We are free to explore, be ourselves, create, speak out, believe, cry, scream, play, make a mess, be afraid, make mistakes, get uncontrollably excited, need someone. We are not worried about what we should do or what they will say. We just do.
Then somewhere along the line, usually upon the entrance into adulthood, we stop valuing creativity. Instead, numbers rule our lives. Money becomes our god, and big houses and cars become our goals.
Meanwhile, we spend our free time reminiscing on the "good old days," where things were simple and summer was long. When we were free to just be.
Adults so value children's ability to live and think without boundaries. But then why don't we value this same ability in adults? What makes some feel as though they are above finger painting? Or others feel as though their shoes are too nice to get muddy?
When do we stop putting emphasis on experience, and start putting it on achievement?
ADELE's "Rolling in the Deep" gives me hope for my generation. That we are in fact capable of creating songs with as much passion and class as the soul singers of the early 1960's.
This song breathes life into hopeless bones. It shakes slumberers awake from a season of apathy.
It makes souls hot that have been numbed by lives lived without passion.
It threads itself like red ribbons through rib cages, surging hope through sad bodies. Its power rolls into my ears like a 1,000 member stampede.
With her lyrics, Adele digs deep into the hearts of the heartbroken, planting fires of resentment, revenge, anger, and eventually, toward the end of the song, of personal recovery.
This song makes me think of my mother. I think of her strength. I think of what it took for her to get through a divorce from the man to whom she was married for 26 years, from the man whom she still loves deeply. I think of her heartbreak and I cry every time. I love my mother so much, I JUST CAN'T UNDERSTAND HOW ANYONE COULD EVER HURT HER.
But with my mother's pain comes a lesson. When you feel alone, call someone. If they don't answer, meditate. Meditate until you can't keep your eyes closed any longer. Go out. Join things. Get involved. Always be kind, always be true. Never lose yourself in the pain.
"There's a fire starting in my heart, Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark, Finally, I can see you crystal clear, Go ahead and sell me out and a I'll lay your ship bare, See how I'll leave with every piece of you, Don't underestimate the things that I will do, There's a fire starting in my heart, Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark, The scars of your love remind me of us, They keep me thinking that we almost had it all, The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help feeling, We could have had it all, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), Rolling in the deep, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), You had my heart inside of your hand, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), And you played it to the beat, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), Baby, I have no story to be told, But I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn, Think of me in the depths of your despair, Make a home down there as mine sure won't be shared, The scars of your love remind me of us, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), They keep me thinking that we almost had it all, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), I can't help feeling, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), We could have had it all, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), Rolling in the deep, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), You had my heart inside of your hands, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), And you played it to the beat, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), Could have had it all, Rolling in the deep, You had my heart inside of your hands, But you played it with a beating, Throw your soul through every open door, Count your blessings to find what you look for, Turn my sorrow into treasured gold, You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), We could have had it all, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), We could have had it all, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), It all, it all, it all, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), We could have had it all, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), Rolling in the deep, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), You had my heart inside of your hands, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), And you played it to the beat, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), Could have had it all, (You're gonna wish you never had met me), Rolling in the deep, (Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep), You had my heart inside of your hands, But you played it, You played it, You played it, You played it to the beat.
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming so you better run
Run fast for your mother run fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers Leave all your love and your longing behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses
Cuz here they come [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/florence_and_the_machine/dog_days_are_over.html ]
And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had
And what was left after that too. oh.
Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back
Struck from a great height
By someone who should know better than that
The dog days are over
The dog days are gone
Can you hear the horses
Cuz here they come
Run fast for your mother and fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your loving behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive
The dog days are over
The dog days are gone
Can you hear the horses because here they come
The dog days are over
The dog days are gone Can you hear the horses because here they come.
I struggle with the fact that I no longer play volleyball every day. The sport used to take up hours and hours of my week, and leave bloody bruises on my hips, but you know what? Four years later, there's still no feeling in the world like scoring a crucial point or making an unbelievable save.
I miss being part of a team. I miss pushing myself beyond my limits. I miss struggling, gasping for air, telling myself "I'm almost there." I miss the physical challenge with which volleyball provided me. I miss the pride associated with being a player for a national team, and the rush that came from wearing my team's colors and logo in front of the competition. I miss knowing that I killed myself to get somewhere. I crave that feeling.
