Yes, a different title for this blog. Lines of Expression. Let me explain.
A couple of weeks ago I spent some time journaling about the art I was creating and how it’s one way I can express myself in terms of the lines and patterns and forms that help me to recover from autistic overwhelm and burnout.
As much as I love creepy cute art (and I really, really do), it really doesn’t hit the mark as well as my more abstract pen and ink work, whether left in black and white or with colour added.
Working intuitively, using line shapes, patterns, textures and motifs that delight my senses – touch, sight, sound, muscle movement, and the way all of these things make my mind, my awareness become fascinated and delighted by what is being drawn.
I never know what’s going to appear on my paper. Everything flows as a kind of dance. Perhaps it’s my version of improvised jazz where the musician works within a tonal scale without defined form and weaves a melody that feels like an exploration of a labyrinth where the exit has to be found through unexpected twists and turns. I’m not sure if that’s a correct, or even coherent, description. But it’s kinda how I feel as I create.
I always get to at least one part where I can’t see where to go next, where I feel stuck and disappointed in my work. A break from the art, a little bit of distance, and then on the return lines flow once again, starting to lead the melody and rhythm of the lines to the end.
My art is one way I express my inner self. The self that is still masked. The self that finds it hard to communicate in words.
My art is a conversation between the paper and pen and my heart, mind and soul. The many things I’ve observed that fascinate me find their way into my art, albeit in stylised forms at times. Not just line shapes, shapes, motifs, patterns and textures; but also flowers, Celtic/Anglo-Saxon/Medieval manuscripts, architecture, shells, fossils, rocks/geology, foliage, Meso-American, and so much more.
Everything, including the variations in line weight, the inclusion of empty space as a landing place for the eye to rest (or a drawing with little empty space in it), the rhythm of lines etc, cross hatching, stippling, shading and colour, are all part of my self-expression at that time.
Each drawing is a story of how I feel at anyone time, which is often complex or not easily recognised by my autistic senses. So I express what’s going on in my own way, even if you can’t see the distress, upset, loneliness, exhaustion, contentment, joy, fascination, delight, and more in it. It’s me in a way that the creepy cute isn’t.
Creepy cute makes me smile and giggle, but it doesn’t reach as deep into me as my more abstract stuff. Like these two above. Different, yet inspiration has come from the same source within me.
