Art is Feeling

I had a profound art experience the other night. I have always had troubles connecting with my feelings. I have trouble expressing them, and even feeling them. Art is a visual way of communicating on an emotional level. And how can I do this, if I can not even connect with my feelings?

About half a week ago I was visiting with my art teacher (she challenges me a lot and to the core). I was fixing a computer problem. In return for this favor, she took me down to a hollow on her property were we could draw trees. I hate drawing trees. I only want to do people, but I understood this was a gift in return for my help, and important to her. So off I trucked to draw trees, again being challenged to expand myself by this wonderful teacher.

As we walked down into the hollow, she told me this is where she had had her daughter's funeral. Now, the thought of one of my daughters dying before me is unbearable. To know someone else I highly respect had gone through this was heart rending.

As we drew, she mused about coming to the hollow again, and drawing to work through her grief. This got me to thinking about another artist I knew, who disappeared from all art functions for about a year, who drew hundreds of drawings of children playing, to work through her grief. I always admired artists who could deal with emotions by drawing or painting, but I never could and this troubled me.

Two days later, I was at home, and previously had been copying Kathie Kollwitz drawings. The power, the emotion, and the simplicity of line really captivated me, and I wanted to feel what she felt when she made her drawings. This night, I decided that I was going to try to draw like Kathie Kollwitz from a picture of my deceased mother.

My mother had senility for years before she died, and at times could not remember who I was. This hurt. Hurting was not rational, but it still hurt any way. To me, it was like my mother was already dead, but I kept visiting each time hoping she would remember me, at least for some of the time.

I sat down and started to quickly draw my mother. I wanted to tap directly into my emotions, and not fuss with composition, etc. I never intended this to be a showcase drawing, but a primitive attempt at displaying my sorrow for the loss of my mother. The picture I chose was one that had that empty stare you see in the eyes of the senile. I remember the day of the picture well. There was a party at the nursing home, and Mom was having fun, eating ice cream, but the stare was there for the first time.

As I finished drawing the party hat, and started to draw the eyes, I remember hoping that I could capture the blank stare, so sad, yet so indicative of her state. As I started to draw the eyes, my emotional dam broke. I was overwhelmed with grief. I was crying so hard, I couldn't see to draw. I kept having to wipe my eyes so I could see, and could only make one mark, then I had to wipe them again. And my sobs made it impossible to draw any kind of steady line. I was torn apart, but was driven to get those eyes right. Then I realized I had, because they were what broke my dam. I finished off the mouth and chin, and they are not very good, but that wasn't important any more.

I was surprised when I was done. I was very angry. I pushed a coffee table across the room, threw my pencils around, and just caused havoc until I could get a little control. I ended with lemon tea, and pacing around the house for over an hour. I carefully covered the drawing with my Kathie Kollwitz book, because I was afraid to look at it again. It was too painful.

Two days later I have looked and the feelings are not there any more. There is a healthy regret and sadness, but not the overwhelming emotions of grief and anger I first felt. This was a first for me, and a big step towards getting my feelings into my art. The really nice part, was the healing that comes with art for those of us blessed with the gift.