I draw.
I love to create, I have always loved seeing, feeling and creating.
I love to paint, and I love to use charcoal and I love pottery and ceramics. However, all of those things require space, time and set up – in other words – a big commitment.
This is hard to find at the moment and has been for a few years, for more than a few reasons. Let me quickly give you some highlights of the last few years;
– worked full time shift work in an Emergency Department
– had 2 little boys, from newborn to toddlerdom.
– studied and completed a Masters degree
– volunteered at 3 different committees/ organisations.
– Played representative and social sport.
– had at different times parents and in laws with severe and chronic illnesses.
This is not an exhaustive list, nor is it what this post is about.
However, I could not find time to enjoy a movie, watch a TV series or read a book (that wasn’t a text).
I love being busy and I hate letting people down, so I was a well scheduled person with many understanding friends and family. Many of them would invite me for coffee, then enter the next things that we were organising into MY diary or my smart phone, knowing that if it was not scheduled in, then it would not occur.
2012 was a rough year. I thought 2011 was a rough year, till I got knee deep in 2012. It ended with a climax that saw my little family of 4 needing to make 2 HUGE decisions for reasons outside of our control. The decisions were made with heartache and ruthlessness. And within the space of 6 weeks we went from planting a vege patch in our castle to moving 1000km away, hoping to start again.
There has been immeasurable grief throughout this process, and the losses keep mounting.
However, to discount the gains would be to devalue them.
One of the subtlest, yet most rewarding gain has been the time, space, freedom and need to start creating again, just for me.
So I am drawing. The process I will talk about later, as each step is a psychological one and the cathartic sensation when I draw is wonderful. And addicting. I carry an ink pen and an A5 art diary in my handbag. I pull them out as often as I pull out my book to read.
I have noticed, unwittingly the evolution as I free myself a little each time. The simple pleasure of placing black ink on a white page or white ink on a black page is wonderful. I am smiling just typing about it.
I am not a talented artist, I have family members and friends who are truly inspiring. I have friends and talented family members who have published books and sold their commissioned art, who run art galleries and who run business, or freelance their talents.
I don’t. I am a nurse, which is my craft.
But I do draw.