For most of my life I've turned to photography when I'm having a tough time navigating curveballs that have been thrown my way.
This time has been different, and I'm not sure why. As much as I bemoan the fact that I haven't picked up my camera in over three months, I'm learning to accept that my creative urges are taking me in a different direction, at least for now.
Yes, I've been drawing for a few years, usually making designs for my line of coasters, and I've dabbled in painting, too, especially during the pandemic. But until now, I never relied on drawing as a daily practice, a meditation, if you will.
I've always liked the idea of "blind contour" or "intuitive" drawing. That involves drawing something without looking down at the paper and without lifting your pen. You're forced to confront your subject without ever looking away, and then you have to open yourself up to the often bizarre representation that lands on the page. It's an exercise I'd recommend to everyone!
My beloved husband, with whom I've been dancing through life for 51 years, was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia back in late August. Talk about curve balls. It's not an easy cancer to deal with, and in fact, the only cure for it is a stem cell - or bone marrow - transplant. My camera has been on the shelf ever since we received this scary news (with the exception of a portrait shoot I'd promised a friend). Instead, I pulled out my sketch book and began "recording" my feelings with daily intuitive drawings.
I use the raw results as the bones for the finished piece. I go back in to clean it up, add additional lines and color. The titles are reflective of the things Eddie is going through. There's one I titled "Night Sweats," another called "Worried." I've made drawings of us together as a couple experiencing gratitude, joy, sadness, commitment. These drawings help me recognize my own feelings... and name them. I guess it's been a good first step toward trying to bring into of focus what's happening, what's swirling around us.
I've been reading Suleika Jaouad's book Between Two Kingdoms, a memoir in which she describes her own journey with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. It's a terrific book, one I think just about everyone would appreciate, but for me in particular it's become a real source of inspiration as Eddie's caregiver. One of the best takeways for me has been her belief that survival is an act of creativity.
So I continue to Draw. Create. Survive.
And navigate this new terrain.
This time has been different, and I'm not sure why. As much as I bemoan the fact that I haven't picked up my camera in over three months, I'm learning to accept that my creative urges are taking me in a different direction, at least for now.
Yes, I've been drawing for a few years, usually making designs for my line of coasters, and I've dabbled in painting, too, especially during the pandemic. But until now, I never relied on drawing as a daily practice, a meditation, if you will.
I've always liked the idea of "blind contour" or "intuitive" drawing. That involves drawing something without looking down at the paper and without lifting your pen. You're forced to confront your subject without ever looking away, and then you have to open yourself up to the often bizarre representation that lands on the page. It's an exercise I'd recommend to everyone!
My beloved husband, with whom I've been dancing through life for 51 years, was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia back in late August. Talk about curve balls. It's not an easy cancer to deal with, and in fact, the only cure for it is a stem cell - or bone marrow - transplant. My camera has been on the shelf ever since we received this scary news (with the exception of a portrait shoot I'd promised a friend). Instead, I pulled out my sketch book and began "recording" my feelings with daily intuitive drawings.
I use the raw results as the bones for the finished piece. I go back in to clean it up, add additional lines and color. The titles are reflective of the things Eddie is going through. There's one I titled "Night Sweats," another called "Worried." I've made drawings of us together as a couple experiencing gratitude, joy, sadness, commitment. These drawings help me recognize my own feelings... and name them. I guess it's been a good first step toward trying to bring into of focus what's happening, what's swirling around us.
I've been reading Suleika Jaouad's book Between Two Kingdoms, a memoir in which she describes her own journey with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. It's a terrific book, one I think just about everyone would appreciate, but for me in particular it's become a real source of inspiration as Eddie's caregiver. One of the best takeways for me has been her belief that survival is an act of creativity.
So I continue to Draw. Create. Survive.
And navigate this new terrain.
