I gave myself a challenge one summer.
A bowl sat on the sideboard of my studio and every time someone came in I asked them to write a word – any word – on a piece of paper and slip it in the bowl. Every day I blindly drew a new word with the intention to journal about it and then creatively express it in some way. I gave myself permission to dance, sing, paint, or draw it into being. Anything, as long as I did something creative. It worked and I kept busy.
Then one day, about 8 months later, I drew this word…. Oh my… Just journaling about it made me uncomfortable.
Think about it – KINKY – no matter where you are on any spectrum, it is beyond that point. It is meant to be past your personal comfort zone, even if just a little bit. Maybe even a lot.
I followed my inner guidance in an attempt to visualize the word kinky and all that it made me feel. There was so much there!
I knew I had to throw paint. So I cut a large swath of cavas and laid it on the floor. Here we go….
The recklessness of flinging paint felt a bit wild and freeing.
Then the need to express the feeling of danger led me to then cut the canvas into 4 pieces. My original thought was to reposition them in a different order. After all, even in destruction there is a new creation.
Do I want to put the pieces back differently? No, actually, I don’t. I like the slices I made. Having cut it, something has changed within me. Yes, something is different. And maybe, just maybe, it is better now, better for having tried something new.
But the reattachment proved more challenging than I had considered. The pieces were too large to manipulate by hand. They slid and shifted across the floor as I attempted to reach across the vast expanses and sew them back together. Long gone were my plans to reassemble it with a beautifully embroidered stitch.
So, on to plan B. Bring out the big gun – the machine. Down and dirty, get it back into one piece. Biggest zigzag you got. Twist it, turn it, roll it, squeeze it, just get it done. Pretty comes later – if at all.
As I struggled I asked myself what exactly was I trying to say? This word, this feeling, how did it strike me? What specifically did it evoke? I marveled at the number of conflicting emotions that coursed through my body – physically and mentally – with just this one word.
Terror showed up in my chest. My breathing became shallow; fear made my eyes dilate ever so slightly. The potential of the unknown had an amazing impact upon me, a learned behavior that, whatever it was, it was going to hurt. Yet, as I allowed this fear into my body, I noticed another emotion joining the party. Excitement.
Yes, there it was, deep in my belly. My female organs began a little squiggly dance. Hmmm. That’s a surprise! Ok, so what else do you have to share with me? Where can we go with this?
Fascination showed up. A delight in the Unknown. Who knew?! All mixed together they made quite an interesting experience. What a party this is turning out to be!
I always find that at a certain point painting becomes a dance, the fusion of 2 energies, canvas and artist, leading and following in an attempt to put forth the objective. Each has a voice. Once this canvas was reconstructed both participants were ready to exchange new information.
Ok let’s take this further – how do I put all this into a visual piece, what movements convey my intentions, what are my symbols?
This piece was somewhat large, close to 5 square feet. I wanted impact. I needed to say this very loudly and I wanted it felt.
Every color, every brushstroke had a message. Scraps of leather, each puncture and every thread, all purposely placed upon the canvas. Black, the Unknown. Fuchsia, pleasure. Orange, the body. Crystals, the orgasm.
Standing before my piece I asked it, Have we said it all, everything that was intended? Do you want more? Knowing when to stop is just as important.
In the end I am extremely proud of this piece. Having gone to the edges of my comfort zone I was brave and I was scared.
And I did it anyway.
