I came across this quote somewhere but can't remember right now who said it. I don't usually use other people's words, but these struck a chord. Perhaps its like with alcoholics - in order to recover you first have to name the problem, admit its your own, and until you do it will always have power over you, instead of the other way around?
Maybe my struggle to accept the new diagnosis is part of the same pattern? In order to integrate this new reality I must first admit and accept its existence ... and only then can I get down to learning to live with it. Anyway, that's why I wanted to record this, because it seems to be a truth that could apply to a great many things in life, and a useful lesson to keep close to my heart.
I began by drawing these layers, not least because my life is getting complicated to say the least, and I wanted the page to reflect that. Looking at it again maybe these are actually storm tossed waves? They can be whatever I like!
Next I added a wash of dilute acrylic paint, going back to deepen the colour in places. I'd used a rather soft pencil by mistake which smudged when I put water on it, but I'm not worried by that - it seems to add something?
Next I wrote the words in a strong black - which I rather like against the yellow. The photos don't do justice to the colours - its been rather wet and gloomy lately, not the best light for taking pictures.
After that I began to draw around the layers and segments in fine black Posca paint pen, and to decorate each one. The use of earth tones is deliberate; I was thinking of the layers of the earth as the layers we build up against things which hurt us. You can become so prickly with defences that you have to allow yourself to be vulnerable and take off the armour!
The eye is the human element I always like to include, and everything else owes much to my current obsession with Australian aboriginal art and the dots and lines they use.
As ever, the journalling process was cathartic - which is mainly why I do it, although I love splashing about with paint anyway. What is written here is quite true - at least for me, because once I was able to say out loud "I have Fibromyalgia and now I have Psoriatic Arthritis as well", it helped me to accept this new reality and to feel less overwhelmed by it all.
Having half the energy I had before means I am a lot less productive at the moment, which is why there was a long gap since my last post as I had nothing to share. I TRY to post weekly but can't always manage it.
Blessings
Rosie
4 comments:
What an eye-catching page ... I do love all your patterns and wavy shapes, contrasting yet supporting each other. And good to hear that it helps to find words; there is power in naming :). sending you warmest good wishes, and thank-you so much for visiting me recently. I am always touched, as i know your time and energy needs careful looking after.
Loving the colours. Gentle hugs as always, Dawn xx
I love your style ROSIE! Keep on inspiring us, we feel encouraged!
I love your work, your words (even though these ones were borrowed!) and your generosity in sharing. Your journey is obviously a difficult one and I am so sorry you are now having to contend with yet another struggle. Don't forget Rosie that this doesn't define you. Although they can make life hard, I believe that ultimately our difficulties have much to teach us and can lead to us developing the most virtuous human traits - compassion, courage, strength, tenacity, self-love, etc. I find my time making art is very healing and a wonderful meditative time for self-searching and contemplation. A good time for asking what my body wants me to know. X
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