Chalk pastels are one of my favourite art materials. I love the way they blend easily. This week I’ve been making drawings to create insights around self knowledge. The parts of my self that I’m focusing on are Small Me and Big Me. Below are my images and the words I wrote about them in my journal.
I took my chalk pastels and began making figures of eight. Each time I used a different colour I blended them together. I put black dots in the middle of the spaces and blended them outwards then drew white lines connecting them to the sides of the eight. They look like eyes and it struck me that Big Me has access to infinite knowledge, can see infinity, and so we need to trust Big Me. I drew colour patches and blended them around the outside of the eight. There is something about infinity being in something. And that something is beautiful. Utterly beautiful. Even more beautiful than a sunset and the awe we feel when watching sunsets is connected to that. Awe calls me home.
my journal 14.12.20
I drew with pastels with my non preferential hand. I chose colours depending on the ones that ‘seemed to want to be chosen’ (that’s what I felt at the time). I started with a blue circle. Inside that I drew a pink circle overlapping with the blue, then followed that pattern choosing light blue, purple, dark blue, red, then yellow. Finally I took the white and drew wobbly lines from the centre to the edges, effectively blending the colours by doing so. What stands out is red with a patch of white at the centre. It has a sense of heat. Something smouldering that emits through the layers. So it’s ultra hot in the middle and warm on the outside. That’s because the dark blue layer is extremely cold to manage the effect on the outside layer. I think this has something to do with rage and shame again. And the yellow at the middle is my light. The other layers are protections too. I’m protecting other people from my rage.
What would I like to have happen?
To let it flow.
And then what happens?
I looked up and my gaze fell on the love drawing on my wall. Love. Be love. See love.
What are the conditions for that?
Feeling it, telling it, making a new narrative, telling it.
What kind of new narrative?
One where we come together and co-create a safe space and tell our stories in the forms that they need to be in. Meet fire with fire. Throw things in the fire. Let things go. Let things come.
my journal 15.12.20