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Yesterday I felt so agitated about the uncertainties of life but I knew I had to do a drawing nonetheless. I decided to draw the divine mother in honor of Mother's Day, and turned to a photo of la Virgen de la Soledad from Oaxaca. I was frustrated with the way it looked after scanning so I decided to take a photo. I liked the juxtaposition of the mundane clipboard and masking tape with a holy image, and the shadow of the vine at the bottom.
Then what caught my eye was the crack in the sidewalk. It brought to mind the question I asked when I started the project of drawing 100 heads. Can watering the seeds of what you love crack the concrete? It felt like a good sign on a day of agitation with all the unknowns.
Last night, after posting about the power of vulnerability, I watched an episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Brandi was crying about the pain of her cheating husband ultimately leaving her for LeeAnn Rimes. Then she clenched her jaw, held her breath, and declared to Lisa that no matter what she felt she would not, under any circumstances, let her two sons see her be vulnerable. It's amazing how scary it is to really be real.
It's my 50th post, which means I'm halfway through my project of drawing 100 heads. When I started this project in February, I wondered what it would be like now in May. I'd hoped for long afternoons of drawing portraits but I can barely find the time for quick gestures. It turns out that having a day job, running your own business, and being an artist is a lot to do at all once. This project has become less about learning how the frontal bone relates to the nasal bone, and more about how to keep drawing at all in the midst of modern life.
I've become less afraid of drawing faces, however, and now find them the first place I go instead of the place I most try to avoid. I still feel the panic, during life drawing sessions, of seeing a face and thinking "I don't know how to draw that!" but the difference is that now I try to draw it anyway, despite that feeling. And then I come here and post them despite how I may feel about that too. It brings to mind Brene Brown's amazing TED talk on the the power of vulnerability, a reminder to myself in those times where I think if only I had the time, I could really be good at this, to just keep going, keep drawing, keep posting, wholeheartedly.
I've been fascinated by ribs these days. I remember both Sherrie McGraw and Rob Liberace pointing out that when drawing breasts it's important to draw the ribs in order for them to have a form to lay on. Even if you don't actually see it. That's something I captured in this gesture.
As a therapist I find that almost every client is amazed that their ribs go all the way around their body. Of course we know it intellectually but we don't tend to feel it, we tend to feel like our ribs are just in the front. When we breathe well our ribs expand and contract, when we don't, they don't. This is why back stiffness can often be alleviated simply by breathing well.
I like how this gesture shows both movement and stillness at once. It snowed 8 inches when I was in Boulder and I loved it. I stayed a few blocks off Pearl Street and didn't have to drive for 4 days. I walked everywhere, along the river path, to Dushanbe Tea house and to the Boulder Bookstore where I found a great book by Jen Sincero called "You are a Badass. How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life."
She points out that when someone asks you how you are, "Good, but busy!" seems to be the new "Fine, thanks." She also writes about the importance of taking care of your body because, "During our little sojourn here on earth, we need our bodies more than they need us...we, if you're anything like me, run around doing all our busy work with our poor bodies flapping behind us like old wind socks."
When I took Lynda Barry's workshop, the one where she taught us the beautiful technique of writing down 10 images from our day, she said it would take 30 minutes to do the assignment. That's 10 minutes to pace around trying to avoid doing it, 10 minutes to actually write down the images, and 10 minutes to freak out that you actually did it.
That's how I feel about vacation. There's vacation, then there's the week after where you're between two worlds, amazed at what you experienced and not quite ready to be back. This is a different drawing than the last one. Sometimes I like to take long poses and break them up into short ones, to learn something new each time. Our model is not quite convinced that vacation is over either.
I'm leaving this morning for my own personal Spring Break, heading on a road trip North to Boulder for rivers, green trees, independent book stores, and really good tea. In the past I've always scrambled to post ahead on my blog when I went on vacation. But I reminded myself of the one New Year's resolution I made this year, No Rushing, and that my original intent with this project was to move toward a balance between work and play. I'll post again when I return in a week. The model's last pose of the night was a perfect one to hold in honor of this time of rest.
