Drawning

Besides holding the pen ferociously these months, I am also taking up drawing again. It has been a while, and I am sketching and trying out new material a bit to see where this will take my hands. Like often when I am creating, I work intuitively, letting my body (gut feeling) direct the motions, being fascinated by the shapes and motions apparently seeking their way through my skeleton onto the paper. I have a strong thing for colors, always had. It is as if I become the color itself, absorbed into its feelings, textures, taste, and sound even. What I like most about these activities, is the disintegration of my (socialized) mind. Getting lost in a world of spontaneous and attuned unfolding, flowing through life, and reflecting its arty-like shapes in whatever emerges. It also feels a bit like loving. A mixture of care, presence, deep connection, sense of beauty and adored awkwardness (the latter nourishing a fascinating sense of alienation that draws us into the mystery of the other, or the artwork). Relaxing self-consciousness (even the fact that I was lovingly asked to make sketches for an album cover, brrrr), entering a liminal world, a world in which meaning is nothing other than sensory sensitivity. Crucial is a sense that it is inherently okay to be useless, no need to directly reorient this activity under the pressure of a capatilized ‘project’. This only puts a string on the flow of my hand. In mind comes Ethan Hawke's eclectic sounding cheers to give yourself permission to be creative.

Well, I indulge myself in the ways my hand dances over the fibers of the paper, its vibes organically gentle and concentrated at once. At times, I feel the passionate push to create art just to remind us, with the serene joy that beauty brings, of deep and layered, sensorial worlds intrinsically hidden in the rupture of words. We could call it “drawning”. Who, what, how... is the eye perceiving its own creations?

What about your artistic endeavors? I am curious!