Many years ago, when I was studying at Parsons School
of Design, I took a colored pencil course.
You might think that colored pencil would be an easy medium, but it is
surprisingly tricky. Anyway, that
particular afternoon, when we walked into the classroom, it was partially
darkened so that we would concentrate on an image being projected onto a screen
in the front. The image consisted of
blurry areas of color, splotches, really.
At first I thought the teacher had inadvertently neglected to put the
slide into focus, but soon I grasped that he had left it blurry on
purpose. He asked us to reproduce what
we were seeing, using colored pencils.
I’m sure I thought, “no biggie,” and proceeded in a
relaxed way to try to reproduce these beautiful, shimmering areas of color. And initially, that seemed to be what the
whole assignment was going to be about.
Yet probably about five minutes into the exercise, I started to notice
that each time I looked up, the image appeared to be getting slightly
sharper. Indeed, I finally watched as
our professor inconspicuously touched the “focus” button about every two or
three minutes. In about half an hour,
the image reached full clarity, and our sketches overall were quite powerful,
in part because we had responded initially only to areas of shading and color,
without being distracted by detail. As
we added detail, it was supported more richly than if we had seen the image (I
believe it was a Manet still life) clearly from the start.
I guess you have figured out that I like metaphors, and
it is dawning on me that this art exercise is a perfect metaphor for my last
few years, having started with an extremely blurry image, and begun, piece by
piece, to “draw” it, as it slowly came into focus. Moments of furious creative activity have
been followed by days, even months of “processing” the updated picture. Each time I pause, things begin to look
sharper.
Most recently, the Danielle LaPorte book was so honest
and direct that I was forced to confront how I continue to almost deliberately and
fearfully shy from my own identity, leaving my picture blurry. After years of “trying” to be many wonderful
things, my real passions (writing/research; England; English church music; women’s
spirituality; English history, art, spiritual history, etc.) came into sharper
focus than ever. A few days of
“processing” later, I started work on the collage, which presented this
material quite differently but more visually and somewhat more powerfully. After that, there were several more days of
processing, and then this past weekend was another turn of the focus wheel…I
joined an academic online group whose topic aligns with a growing area of
interest and research for me. I then got
up the courage to order two inexpensive used books that are relevant to the
kind of writing I may soon be doing…why it still requires courage to do these
things, I don’t know. When you are
trying to bring focus to decades of blurriness, each step, each placement of
pencil to paper, is scary.
The picture that is emerging is slightly off target
from the traditional path for someone who loves English church music. That’s OK.
My journey always was, as a young woman of my generation. That’s why
things got so blurry in the first place. I am thrilled this morning to learn
that a young American woman has been named an Organ Scholar at an English
cathedral, one of the first women and, I am quite sure, the first American
woman to do so. Wow. A lot has changed
in 40 years…
But my picture, sixty years in the making, will look
nothing like hers, even though we share the same passion. It is made up of a whole wider set of colors
and experiences which, in the end, I am glad I had. Each time I put my head
down and creatively process my emerging path, the unseen “teacher” seems to be
sharpening up the image. When I look up,
I’m seeing more and more that interests me and delights me, and seeing it more
clearly – my own personal life masterpiece.
The more I focus on abstracts like joy and happiness and color and
abundance, the more the details are presenting themselves, before my very eyes…
