Unstuck in a Pattern

coming to jesus with colored pencil and ink, metaphorically

I can be a real snob, particularly when it comes to wellness trends or visual culture (not for nothing did I earn a Masters degree in Visual and Critical Studies, emphasis on the Critical) and some of my snobbery has at times been aimed at that undeserving compendium of self-soothery, the adult coloring book. I mean, why color if you can draw? (what a bitch, right?) … but, while coming off my own personal brand of workaholism masked as anxiously productive creativity I found a lot of solace making postcard-sized pattern swatches, gridded with a ruler and filled out piece or shape by shape just like (you guessed it!) the much-maligned ACB.

beginnings.

Part color study, part meditation, part material-acquaintance rite, I made several at a time and bounced between them, ruining some with bad choices and saving others with a good line. The only real rule was to not have a plan.

I didn’t want them to be perfect, I wanted to make more. I liked that they lacked digital edges or full opacity. I enjoyed not knowing what I would get from an ink’s consistency. Sometimes I felt frustrated, and I enjoyed feeling frustrated by something with such low stakes. The colors harmonized, or they were angry with one another. The paint behaved how I wanted, or it didn’t. I tried departing from the grid, and returned to it.

I was looking for the edges of stability — at what point does the resonance of disparate elements veer into disequilibrium? If it went too far discordant I tried walking it back, sometimes hustling it along. Maybe something more interesting may have appeared if I’d given the difficult more space to breathe. I kept trying pink with red. I love the vibration of shocking pink against scarlet or crimson. What’s the difference between scarlet and crimson?

I thought about these things while listening to a wonderful book, meaning mostly I didn’t think about these things at all. Mostly I let myself enjoy putting one color beside another and the feel of wet paint as it slid from a perfectly pointed brush to the paper. The deliberation required to stay within the lines. The triumph of having no ctrl-z when I overrode them. The process of it all, the sketchbookiness, but the pleasure of each completed card being a discreet object, marred and unique. Pointless and beautiful. Its own end and means.

Each time I felt the impulse to make something of it, to point it towards a project or anything bigger or more considered than what it just was (just coloring), I resisted: an active engagement. This way of working (or playing) sits apart from illustration, my usual angle: I was, for once, not trying to say or convey anything other than what’s right there in color and form. Maintain curiosity, but just for the next step.

In Tarot terms, this is Page of Pentacles activity, though I’m reluctant to claim the aim 🏹 that my erstwhile description implies. Less apprentice-baker, more mud pies.

I’ve just started subletting space in a jewelry/metalsmithing studio not far from my house and my Next Task is to bring some of this vibe into learning about melting metals and which minerals won’t change color/composition under the torch (spoiler alert: some do). It's intimidating to start something totally new but I’ll try to carry forth this sense of stake-lessness and outcome-detachment and let myself fuck up (fire and power tools notwithstanding: care will be had). Stay tuned… mistakes are where the magic happens, right?

This kyanite shard spent most of its life a pale robin blue.

ANYWAYS…

SOUP NITES are officially underway: last Tuesday we had some 20 incredible people join us (over the course of the evening) for soups of white bean & ham, vegan roasted tomato & basil and root vegetable with creme fraiche & lemon zest. Next Soup Nite will be Tuesday November 26th — treat yourself to a pre-holiday holiday from cooking and come to SE Portland between 6:30 and 9pm. All are welcome, message me with your # to get on the list/get the address.

Community matters! So does time alone and unoccupied. I wish both for you as we embark on a new & even more unsteady phase of an already well-fucked state. Keep in touch. Stay curious. Turn off those “breaking news” notifications. Detach, and come back. Tell someone you love that you love them.

I love you! Smash that “like” button and love me back. 😚💋