Finding Frenzy and Fulfillment in Art
A whole year later and COVID-19 is still a thing. Emphasis on masking, social distancing, and super vigilant handwashing has become our way of life over this calendar year. Spending so much more time at home in the name of being safe has become our way of being.
Discover and rediscovering activities
Filling hours at home with creative baking (and eating!), awkward zoom calls and meetings, and so many do-it-yourself projects.
Ironically, I am finding that all of these day fillers are not really that bad. A passion of mine has been rediscovering my love of art, and I have loved every second of it. Any form, be it drawing, painting, coloring, sketching, has become such a huge part of my life.
Into the mix
With this renewed love of creating art, I am now very much aware of the challenges of my diagnosis. With Myopic Degeneration, my focusing becomes my focus. To really capture what I am trying to create, I must really zoom in on and highlight it.
Bringing in extra lighting, peering ever so closely at my inspiration, all in the name of being able to duplicate the subject. Taking extra time to really, clearly see what is there. I oftentimes find myself especially drawn to the brighter subjects.
Capturing the details
I find that even capturing the brilliant colors that I truly love is challenging. Into this mix, add the challenge of the definition of these creations, the clear, defining lines that make a project stand on its own.
In time, these attempts come together, but it is often hard to force the wiggly lines I see on my subject back into the rigid, straight lines of my art. The satisfaction of seeing what I have made does a lot for me. There are even times I find myself not quite sure how it even happened.
A year full of art
At this year mark, I look around this art room and I wonder.
There are completed projects everywhere. I have canvases lining shelves of bookcases, artwork notebooks piling up on all flat surfaces, filled with endless pieces of art. There are portfolios jammed with first attempts and sketches stuffed into a closet. My tabletop is a jumble of scrap paper, sketch pencils, watercolors, acrylic paints, and brushes. This year has been full, just not in the way we expected.
Through it all, I find myself constantly thinking ahead; what is the next project? Paging through snapshots of possibilities and magazine pages of ideas, continually searching for the next design. A frenzy of sorts. Turning out finished pieces in two-to-three-day increments, a race against what?
Ultimately, it comes down to time. Presently I am holding my own as far as my vision. I will get injections every six weeks and then there can be one month where no injection is required. My every hope and dream is to prolong the time in between these injections more and more. Staving off the decline as much as possible is the goal.
In the meantime, I find myself back at it. Sitting in a brightly lit art room, music playing in the background, graphite pencil in hand with the next canvas laid out in front of me. Peering ever so closely at what lies there, waiting to be brought out on the newest project.
Peace of mind
Channeling this frenzy so that it not only fills the pages around me, but also brings me to a better place in my mind — a place where I can clearly see through the process and appreciate the passage that got me there.
"When my MD progresses, I experience ________"