Chiaroscuro of the heart
Posted on | March 23, 2006 |
I sit at the dining room table with a good mechanical pencil and some soft lead. The house hums with the regular quiet of evening. Into the corners of my mind the hubbub of the day still seeps, like spilled ink soaking into a paper towel. I give myself a task: focus wholly on these two little boots. Let my eyes move along their contours. Stay focused. Follow with my hand.
I sketch the outline of each boot. My mind slips into a place between thinking and not—a place without language where I hover like a humming bird, millimeters from a flower anticipating sweet nectar. I start painting the shadows.
I’ve been trying to do this more: directing my focus towards everyday objects. To notice how things are. To try to accurately observe. Everything doesn’t have to be good, it just has to be.
I’ve begun to notice this week how often I put value on moments, on whole days: “this is horrible,” I hear myself saying, or “I hate this.” Often I am overcome with these emotions—the value I give the moment obscures it.
The shadows are hard to capture. The quality of shiny rubber catches the light. The boots are still new, only used indoors by Bean’s small feet. He’s walked about in them like a bowlegged cowboy, high stepping, with a big grin on his face. Soon they’ll be muddy, their sheen tarnished with a glaze of puddle mud.
The shadows are important. They give depth and angle. Without them the contours I’ve drawn will look distorted and not like the boots at all. It is the shadows that bring dimension, and I’m starting to understand that about my life too. It is hard for me to allow the shadows to simply be, without resenting them, or allotting them a value. Hard to come face to face with my sorrow, anger, or aggression, without letting these emotions spill over my entire perception self. Hard to let them exist alongside my breath, without holding my breath.
I’m not good at allowing these emotions to rest in the open palms of my soul, without clenching my fists.
Some nights when I paint, I let things distort, grow wild, brilliant, abstract, but tonight I want to capture things as they are. Tonight I want the chiaroscuro to be as it is, there on the table before me. Light where the bulbs above my head illuminate the toe tips. Dark where the soles touch the table top. Light where my breath comes freely. Dark where my mind comes up against the sharp edges of undefined worry.
I recall reading about this years ago when I was trying to learn how to be mindful, rather than just being mindful. I never got it then: this process of acceptance. I never understood how hard it is to sit side by side with frustration, with self pity, with a knot of anger, and allow these things to be without allowing them to flood the page with darkness. To accept them, but not to give them reign. To see them as they are, without the distortion.
I go back over the boots, working with watercolors, adding layer upon layer of red pigment to create the shadows. I begin to notice that there is shape to the shadows. They have borders. I focus my mind on the page. The meaty part of my palm rubs up against the fresh paint, smudging it. A trail of dark pigment flecks the outer edge of my hand.
I realize that often in these past few days, when work has been highly stressful for DH, I’ve allowed myself to absorb his aggression and frustration. I’ve internalized it and allowed it to spread: an unidentified fear spilling across the page of my heart, and my whirling hormones (after two years, nearly, my cycle is finally returning) have added to the blur.
When I look closely, this is what I see: the boots. Two tokens of puddle-stomping joy to be had by the small boy who I love. My anger: not really mine, but absorbed from the environment of stress I’ve been in this week. My worry: money, always money. My fear: that I am not good enough.
When I observe closely this is what I feel: breath. Tension. Focus. Acceptance. Release. Here are the boots, and my soul as I see them tonight.
Comments
27 Responses to “Chiaroscuro of the heart”
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March 23rd, 2006 @ 1:46 am
Your words fill my heart. I have been reading and looking for the past few months or so and I have to tell you that you are one of my inspirations. I have begun writing again because of your journal. Thank you. And you are good enough.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 2:09 am
So touching, such a wonderful illustration
March 23rd, 2006 @ 2:18 am
This is awesome!! Great painting!
Alina
http://alinanimation.blogspot.com/
March 23rd, 2006 @ 2:25 am
Thank you! I have just realised that I have been doing the same this last month - taking on my husband’s frustration and anger with his new position. Taking it on without realising it. Now that you’ve named it for me, I can let it go. What sweet release!
And, you are definitely good enough. I love reading your blog; I’d read your book.
Kathie
March 23rd, 2006 @ 3:04 am
Cycle? I’d forgotten what that was. But I can relate to the swirling emotional soup. And absorption of external vibes; I’m highly reactive, one of my greatest weaknesses.
so hang in there!
I rarely hear the voice of self-doubt in your prose. If it helps, I think you exceed ‘good enough.’ This weekend, I’m sure you’ll enjoy decompressing and I, myself, will enjoy reading about it
*s
March 23rd, 2006 @ 5:38 am
What a beautiful post! And once again you have aptly articulated some issues and emotions which lately have been seeping into every corner of my consciousness.
I too am realizing that I have become a sort of emotional blotter, soaking up the residues of frustration and stress from those around me.
I’m also turning back toward mindfulness and insight meditation to try and remind myself that this moment, this breath is the only reality that exists. And to cast off the shackled worries of what might happen or how I might have done things better.
I don’t know if validation will help soothe your ruffled psyche, but the doubts and fears you express in this post are so familiar, if not universal.
I hope you feel better. I hope you win the lottery. But most of all I hope you keep filling this blog with glimpses of your soul because it makes for very interesting reading…
March 23rd, 2006 @ 6:13 am
I love this detailed working through the creative process, and the way that, in tandem, under the surface, you were working towards this realisation you came upon about your emotional state… so you end up with a beautiful picture, a great piece of writing, and a more balanced understanding of what’s going on inside yourself.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 7:00 am
ah.
worry.
worry and money.
I find it difficult to unclench my jaw.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 7:35 am
You are always so able to put to words, the darkness that I feel. I am constantly speaking to my husband about how his moods, his frustrations, stresses and the like effect me. I love your painting as always.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 7:41 am
Breathe, breathe, breathe. *wings virtual love and energy to you*
March 23rd, 2006 @ 9:14 am
You DID manage to capture the light and shadows effectively! Those boots are so cute that you can’t look at them without smiling. All the things thhat were going on in your head when making this piece of art are thoughts I am all too familiar with. I think part of being an artist means that you don’t let those thoughts stop you.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 9:16 am
Every time I come here, I think “God I love Christina’s website!” Beautiful, and touching. As always.
Having said that, I’d like to think you sometimes throw on hubby’s work socks, mismatched pajamas, and sit down and get your feedbag on with some Ben & Jerry’s. Please tell me you do sutff like that.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 9:30 am
Hi Christina, I can relate to your struggle to be good enough though I am just a beginner at all this. I find my drawings flow better when I can let go of expectations, I like your idea of following breath…I’ll try it. In the end, I think your painting turned out beautifully. It has great character. I love the reflections! Love the title too. Thanks for your honesty.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 9:54 am
i so understand what you are saying
about internalizing
and not even being aware that
you are doing it…
i think i had been unconciously
internalizing
a great deal of my sucky job
and once,
i realized it…
it was easier to accept it…
i couldn’t let it go
but like you said,
i became aware of it
for what it was,
and could let it coexsist
without
sucking all the life out of me.
and i have always
wanted a pair of boots like that
for me
March 23rd, 2006 @ 10:34 am
i used to feel like that a lot, too. give it to God. he took care of it for me. what hope and release. it’s amazing grace- way more than amazing, but there are no words that can well describe it. He doesn’t want our circumstances to take over who we are. Put some joy in your heart. have a great weekend. keep putting heart in your art.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 11:29 am
It’s so easy to absorb other’s worries and make them your own. I try to envision myself as having a bubble around me where other’s drama slips off of me. Kind of like your depicted rain boots.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 11:36 am
So happy that you find time to paint when the house is quiet — it’s much more than most of us do on our path to self-improvement.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 12:21 pm
Beautiful words, beautiful image. Freakin’ adorable boots. So much recently I have been letting the darkness flood the page. Thank you for this reminder to hold myself gently and with acceptance.
Are you familiar with the book Creative License, by Danny Gregory? Obsensibly about learning to draw, but so much more about learnng to meditate with a pen and your eyes. He is definitely someone who cherishes the items of every day.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 12:24 pm
A wonderful watercolor! What better medium to use for these fun rain boots?
March 23rd, 2006 @ 1:01 pm
I love coming to your blog…you are not only amazing with your artwork, but also with your words. Thank you for sharing how you are really feeling and helping us realize we aren’t the only ones who have these emotions.
The boots are brilliant!
March 23rd, 2006 @ 1:19 pm
you are so good. finding the beauty in everyday is so important. wonderful work as always.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 2:10 pm
Excellent work, Christina! Those boots look so shiny and perfectly proportioned. I feel as if I could touch them and feel the slick surface! Bean must look very cute running around in these!
March 23rd, 2006 @ 4:22 pm
Beautifully rendered watercolor piece. You have such good control of your washes.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 4:24 pm
“Two tokens of puddle stomping joy” - love the boots, wishing I had some in my size! I really resonate with the idea of acknowledging the fear, the anxiety, but not letting it color everything I am or do. To remember that I am not my failures. It’s not easy, but it’s good to be reminded of ways to deal with the stressful things of life.
March 23rd, 2006 @ 6:18 pm
one of your best posts yet! these thoughts are what we all need to hear! thank you for sharing your shadows.
March 24th, 2006 @ 9:59 pm
This is a really wonderful, spontaneous yet very thoughtful piece of writing. I so enjoy coming to your blog and keeping up with your thinking here-perhaps in lieu of talking more often! I know I keep telling you, but I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE WRITING, KEEP DOING IT!
March 25th, 2006 @ 2:09 am
The shadows and the light - they both make your watercolor, and your writing, shine. This is a beautiful post.