Three Creative Experiments For Anxious Days

 

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This week, I’ve been treating myself as something of an experiment. You see, I’ve been holding things that are too big for my hands; illnesses and upsets and responsibilities and the kind of things that happen when we enter periods that are hard but very human.

And I’ve found myself with somewhat jumbled insides. Thoughts that race in the night. A tummy that finds she is upset. A need to entertain all manner of worst-case scenarios, not as a form of catastrophizing but so I am prepared.

I know it’s easy in these moments to push creating to the side, but my want is very much to draw her nearer. And so, I’ve been asking myself questions:

What helps? What can we rely on? What’s possible to do?

How might leaning into creativity helps us?

Balancing The Energies

One of the most useful ways I’ve come to understand emotions is to consider them in terms of energetics. In practice, this means reflecting on their elemental qualities.

Typically, anxiety is cold, light, and fast moving, the emotional equivalent of being caught in a crosswind. Our thoughts are un-catchable, un-tameable; our body free of the kind of solidity that keeps us anchored to the ground.

To bring balance, we want to think of its opposites; things that are warm, earthy and grounded. We can contemplate this from all perspectives, from what we eat through to the kinds of clothes and materials we might wear.

From a creative viewpoint, consider things that are tactile, weighty, obvious. Where it’s possible to have a felt relationship with your tools. Where you create something that has a solidity to it, and in doing so, bind yourself to the same sense of earthiness.

And if you can, take big sheets of paper and get down on the ground.

Think oily crayons that leave the maximum amount of residue on the page. Equal parts the paper and your fingers.

Lashings of paint that pours onto paper.

Watercolour rich in pigment that dances at the slightest suggestion of contact. That does not play by any rules.

Thick marker pens, where the aims of our marks are not to be delicate or subtle but to stamp themselves- ourselves- literally and metaphorically, down upon the page.

Colours that declare themselves.

Lines like lanes of licorice.

Layers so thick they create something a body can sink into.

We can bind ourselves to our tools, and if we allow them to, let them carry us to ground.

Create What It Is You Need

Isn’t it the most amazing thing, this capacity we have for imagination? How we can use it to create what we need?

Yesterday, I drew myself a wolf. He was strong and free and magnificent. And he was fierce. I think that’s what I liked most about him. I rode on his back and threaded my fingers through his fur. I suspect we were venturing through the forest- I let him lead the way. It was getting dark, and even though I’ve never been that great in the deep night-ness, I felt calm and unconcerned.

Most of all, I enjoyed the experience of being carried. And of rest. I enjoyed that I didn’t have to take care of things, if only for a moment.

All this from a drawing. Of course, all this from a drawing.

The thing is, you don’t have to create your own world to be able to find respite in that another. We get to support ourselves this way. We get to be intentional about what we take in and surround ourselves with. To assist ourselves in traversing emotional territory that feels bumpy or unwieldy.

We often say that we ‘lose ourselves’ in books, or music, or art but I don’t see it quite this way.

I think we find ourselves there; the parts of us that are still convinced the world is magic.

The bits of us that recognize beauty as a human need.

The pieces of ourselves that we might have felt, only moments prior, disconnected from.

We go into art to retrieve them, and then we gather them up, and turn back towards home, holding what it is we need.

Hands & Repetition

Brains and thoughts like the be guided by the hands. We are designed for the extraordinary simplicity of repetition. Of rhythm. When our minds are dancing to a scattered beat, it’s a balm to re-establish a more coherent cadence with our hands.

Some ways to play with this include:

• Drawing repetitive shapes. Create an outline and fill the whole thing in with circles.
• Drawing spirals, first from in to out and then from out to in. Go slowly and see how closely you can keep the lines together.
• Blind contour drawing. Look only at your subject and not down at the paper. Match the speed of your hand to the speed of your eye.
• A constant infinity sign, where the centrepoint of your circles matches your midline. As you move from left to right, let your pen traverse your body from side to side.

We all have these moments, you know, of inner wobbles. Of emotional energies that consume us. It’s not an aberration, but shared humanity.

And it’s important to remind ourselves- sometimes over and over- of the ways that creating and the body can lead us back. Of the ways we can take our own hands and feel our way towards more steady ground.

Happy creating,

xx Jane

Always good to leave on a smile, isn’t it?