I have been looking forward to an art-making session since the last one. I get a bit of a high when I am playing with paint and channeling my creative energies in this manner. I could be feeling completely detached from my body and my surroundings because my nerves and my senses are taxed from overstimulation (which happens just about every day), and after a rather brief art experience, I feel grounded and whole again.
I can fucking breathe. And loosen my clenched jaw, and smile.
Using my fingers makes it an even earthier, more sensual experience than if I were to use a tool not attached to me. It serves to re-situate myself in my body rather than in my errant thoughts which prefer dangling from the rafters rather than hanging out on the ground… where sanity lives.
I don’t know why, but there is something tremendously gratifying about dragging my fingers and nails across my painted skin. It makes me think of that scene from the film The Clan of the Cave Bear* when the Great Mog-Ur declares Ayla’s (Daryl Hannah… mmmm…) totem the Cave Bear, and drags his painted fingers across the scars on her thigh which were given to her by said bear many moons prior.
It feels like a powerful act.
*Irrelevant but interesting aside: I am obsessed with The Clan of the Cave Bear (film and books) and it is probably because my own soul’s presence on this planet goes back to the Ice Age. I am most definitely a believer in reincarnation.
After imprinting my belly onto the canvas, my fingers took over and completed the piece. I was in a bit of a trance. I remember visualizing a transfer of the negativity stuck inside me to the canvas. I pushed it out through my belly button. I exhaled audibly several times, using my vocal chords to further oust the stuck energy.
I feel so very calm and happy right now.
It named itself “Fire Belly Moon”.
Art is everything.
Time to rest and repair.