While art has always been a part of my life, it's never been the immense catharsis that other people talk about. Perhaps because usually, I get that through writing. I already have writing to tap into my creative power (under lock and key for most of us), and I already have writing that transports me to a different plane.
As I mentioned, I've been taking a bit of a writing break following burnout. Which has been radical. I get unpleasant when I don't write. Antsy. Anxious. Unhinged. I constantly want to scream. Anyway, I'm back writing now, actually, so I'll bottle all the screams for the next story.
But.
During my writing break, I've been spending a lot of time drawing. I don't have an easy relationship with it. I know it's not on par with my writing, nor is it at the level of some of my favorite artists. And until now, as I said, it never brought the expected release. So I didn't fully see the point.
But I guess I locked something inside when I stopped writing. The screaming and the whatnots that usually buzz onto the page now unraveled into my drawing. It stunned me when, putting down the pen, I found myself coming back down, the way I normally do after writing. I just go someplace, and then it takes a minute to fully come back. It's not like you can just step away from the computer and go about your day. You're not mentally there when you're making something. And it's an exhilarating experience.
One that I never (until now) found in art. Before, I was so focused on consciously determining what I'm making. A running dialogue inside my head of what each line is, what every dot represents. Now, I just did.
Various feminine themes have been on my mind. I'm reading a book about myth and symbolism. I'm listening to a bunch of different talks and podcasts surrounding this, the holding of opposites inside all of us. The archetype of the terrible mother. Things like that. And since such are the thoughts running around my brain, they've also informed my art, to an extent.
They're also an exercise in crafting for myself a more accurate representation of female anatomy. That's another thing that's been on my mind, altering the relationship you have with yourself, with your physicality, by translating your body into art and back out again. I suppose I have Robert Mapplethorpe to thank for that. I wrote about him recently for Medium. He had a starkness that just haunts the mind.
Interestingly, as soon as I unlocked this element of catharsis through another artistic medium, I felt my own desire and inspiration to write come flooding back. As if the spirit was saying, now that you've found a new way to do it, we can go back.
It seems in art, as if life, it won't do to put all your eggs into one metaphorical basket. Just as you can't rely on a single person or area of your life to fulfill all of your needs, neither can you rely on only one artistic medium for the release you need.
...or maybe I just needed a break. :)
