Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Distorted medium

When I get into my body it is scary. I realized that when I am grounded it almost hurts. I remember as a child being bewildered by how to use my limbs and fingers.

I used to fall flat on my face, instead of throwing my hands out to save myself. I never wanted to ruin my hands, so I would just fall flat on my face. I always had cuts and bruises on my face as a child. One day my dad told me to just throw my hands out and I would be fine. I didn't believe him, my hands and fingers were so small. They couldn't have possibly saved my head and body from harm.

But they did, I remember falling in our hallway and throwing my hands out in front of me. It barely hurt at all. I remember looking at my hands: they weren't scraped up, they weren't bloody. I was fine. It was hard to imagine that would be the case, I always thought that I would hurt my hands along with my face.

This translated to my fine motor skills as well. The connection between the pencil and the picture in my head has never been a direct one. It feels like there is a distorted medium holding my ideas back. The art that flows out of my body, when it is good, is wholly different from what is in my head. It is like the picture in my mind can't quite connect with my fingers and hands.

My fingers and hands take over at some point and drag me through my project. It is bizarre to watch something come to life without feeling like an active participant. And that is what happens when I really hit my zen points with my art.

Last night was a bizarre experience though. I started drawing and I felt the line between the disconnect and the control the whole time. I couldn't stop fluctuating back and forth between being in control and losing it. Every line I drew was so specific. It felt like my hands were going to swing wildly like a seismograph.

It felt like I was a child again. Unable to concentrate on the paper, but determined to control it. I felt like my hands and fingers were too sensitive to my mind's input. A slight motion would be a radical swing. A change in pressure would break the tip of the pencil. It was a radical moment, feeling the distortion lowered was difficult. Suddenly there was direct input from my head to my hand.

When that happens, I need to learn how to control it. I need to learn to find my center, ground myself when I draw. I want my thoughts to become actions. Practice makes perfect I suppose.