Sculpting Feelings

Racing thoughts coupled with complete inactivity. The itch to move and the hesitation of action. The spiral of doubts and the twitch of regret.

A feeling I've become all too familiar with: Anxiety.

I get... not scared- because logically I know there's nothing to actually be scared of- but uneasy. What if it doesn't work out? What if it's ugly? What if it breaks? If it's a waste of materials? How will I replace those supplies? How could I get back all the time and energy I've already lost? What if I get half way through, realize it's trash and then continue anyways against my better judgement because, well, I've already spent so much time on it?

"But what if it DOES work out?"

Yes, I am well aware of my skills and abilities. I know it likely will turn out wonderful, or at the very least be a good learning experience.

But that doesn't stop that pit from opening in my mind.

Enter my solution: "Who Fuckin' Cares?"

So what if it fails? At least you did it. So what if it's ugly. At least it exists. So what if it breaks. Turn the shards into something else. And if all else fails, just consider it practice.

How many times did you trace the alphabet before you started that dissertation? How many hours did you drive before you got your "big girl" license? How many times did you burn your toast before you figured out that it HAS to be set at EXACTLY one notch lower than the "medium" setting?

Who cares if you wrote that "B" backwards- no one remembers it now. Who cares if it took you a solid 5 minutes to parallel park the first time- you still got your license. Who cares if you burn 2 whole loaves of bread before you figured out your specific toaster was a little hotter than you expected- you're still eating perfect toast now.

The truth of the matter is, that in art there is ALWAYS room for improvement. Even the masters have fought and struggled and climbed to get their status. They just make it LOOK easy.

"If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn't seem so wonderful at all"

-Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

For me, the easiest solution to getting out of my head, is to get into my body. I find something productive but physical to do. I focus on the movement and the action instead of whatever unintelligible thought is racing through my head. Often that means working in my garden or cleaning the bathroom.

When it comes to art, that means working with materials that need a lot of physical force. My favorites are wood and clay. I love carving wood for the exact same reason I love building with clay. With both, I scrape away little by little, carefully join pieces together, hope and pray to the Art Gods that nothing explodes or catches fire. I can't rush them. I have to be patient. I have to pay attention to what I'm doing, to what my material is telling me. Each piece creates a rhythm all its own, forcing me to listen to it. It resets me. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I often think of my work flow as an extension of my body's energy. I sculpt the lines that flow from my heart through my arms, tingling in my wrists, itching through my fingertips until it breaks through and pushed the clay or scrapes away the wood. The forms become manifestations of my energy, my soul. It can be intense. Uncomfortable. Confrontational, even. But it's necessary. I NEED to get the energy out of my body. Luckily ,we live in a world happy to receive that energy and transmute it into creation. The natural materials act as a filter for the miasma of my anxiety and turns it into something beautiful. It's an ancient sort of alchemy that we all can practice.

My anxiety and emotions don't disappear when I make this art. It just changes shape. It starts as something invisible, untouchable, seeping into my very bones and becomes something strange, but breathing and brightening my spaces.

If you'd like to see more of my anxiety alchemy works, take a look through my gallery or stop by my shop to get one for yourself!