Two things tripped me up quite literally this past weekend – grapevines and sheets. I ended up on my butt both times, and I have scrapes, bruises and sore spots all over my poor, abused body. This is a side-effect of something called “ambition” mixed with “distraction”. And it’s funny how every time it happens, I’m reminded of one of my art teachers in college, who used to insist that we practice “mindfulness” whenever we were creating art.
As mindful as I can be when I want to (I have great ability to focus), he never saw anything at all remarkable about any of the artwork I did in his class, and I was always so very confused as to what it was, exactly, that I didn’t have. I still am, for that matter. I have many talents, but creating art from pencils, pens or paint is apparently somewhat beyond me. It’s probably the same indescribable “thing” I keep looking for in my writing. As I’m far more motivated to keep writing than to explore most other forms of artwork, perhaps someday I’ll find it on a digital page somewhere…
It’s so easy to judge a piece of art, whether painted or drawn or written or constructed, and say whether you like it or not. Whether it speaks to you or not. Whether it has that subliminal quality that takes it from paint or ink or lead or yarn or marble or words to something on a slightly different level.
But it’s nearly impossible to actually describe what that “something” you’re looking for is, and because of that, it’s also impossible to know whether you’ve put it into your own work or not. To add more complexity, other people may or may not see something you cannot see for yourself, in work that you’ve created.
“Art” is a very odd & subjective thing. Mindfulness, not so much.
Enter the colored pencils.
I scoffed when I saw that the trendy new “thing” for adults is coloring. Crayons, pencils, markers, and adult-oriented (no, not *that* adult, though I think you can get those too) coloring books filled with intricate designs and patterns to be filled in however we see fit.
I scoffed, because I am not five, but my fingers and the less-logical part of my brain seemed to think it looked like a very relaxing activity to both focus on and be distracted by at the same time. Like solving a jigsaw puzzle, with less brain-work. The only decisions to make would be what color to use next, and where to put said color. That’s it. No following a complex written pattern, no active reasoning or logic needed, just a very simple task of applying color to already drawn shapes.
So I overrode the logical, adult part of my brain and ordered a couple of coloring books for my husband and I to share, along with a couple sets of colored pencils (in case we both wanted to use them at the same time). And last week, hubby and I started coloring (again).
I’m still not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. It’s a fun, almost hypnotic craft project that does allow the mind to sort of just wander along as the pencils scratch over the paper. I like seeing the black and white patterns start to pop as the colors are laid down. There isn’t any right or wrong, and it’s a pleasant way to sort of just “reset” and relax for a bit. I like the smell of the pencils.
Still, I’m not sure whether it will be a long-term thing, or just a short-term trendy diversion. There are plenty of other relaxing things I want to do and get back to, now that day-to-day life is sort of stabilizing again. That is one thing about coloring though…the materials needed are very few, and the time commitment need only be whatever time you have. I can’t say that about most of my other hobbies.
I also can’t color while watching TV (not and actually get any coloring done). I can, however, knit and crochet, which I plan to get back to this week. Finally.