13 July, 2012
I was dead bored, period. With nothing interesting on the Internet or I simply tolerated boredom to take over all of me, and with all holy craps rumbling on my mind, I felt awfully mentally tortured. I snapped inside just when a memory hit me like a smack I had to dodge.
One unproductive morning, I was trying to illustrate what was going on inside my head. Okay, a little insane, but I thought it was a “friggin'” great idea to try working out. I had with me a piece of thick paper, my black gel pen, and an “effin'” noisy mind. Whatever came to me, that I wasn’t sure of, but I shut my eyes close anyway, the pen in my right hand, its tip on the paper. Indeed, I was a little expectant of the finished artwork, that at least it would be interesting more than beautiful or pleasing. I focused, listened to the “mental noise”, and keenly watched the visualizations that took over the blank scenario. With unsupported hopes that I was making sense with what I was doing.
It certainly felt like chasing lightning and shooting stars! Crazy. The lines were split-second fast and there was an awful lot of them. While on the brink of frustration, I still managed to doodle lines on the paper, missing much more than half of half of them all. And I snapped again. Frustrated. Boo.
Cutting it off, I opened my eyes only to unsurprisingly find my hopeful effort come to naught. The output proved my “effin'” idea…well, nugatory. Like, “What the hell was that?” Five meaningless lines formed a figure not any sane mind could figure out what. I thought it didn’t work. And I decided, it didn’t. “Did it? — Of course, not.”
On that gloomy afternoon (yeah, it actually rained) of 13 July, I thought I just caught another chance to draw my thoughts. And it took me a while though to make sense of that insane possibility – drawing my thoughts, which weren’t necessarily people or anything tangible and could be frozen in a still-life painting. For a moment I believed I wanted to paint a colored MIR (magnetic resonance imaging) scan of my brain through painting. With that, I grabbed my poster paint set – my friends’ gift on my 20th birthday. While I prepared the materials at my cozy corner, my playlist was blasting through my brother’s speakers – just right to set my mood, I thought.
And then, this.
Diez Vueltas, or “Ten Turns”, is my first abstract piece. Made of ten layers of colors randomly picked, Diez Vueltas was painted to (inaccurately) replicate the visualizations that went on my mind at that particular point in time (13 July, 2012, 3:08-3:19 PM).
“Ten Turns” came from the number of times that I picked a paint-brush combination for each layer of the piece. The little twist was that each paint-brush combination was chosen at random (as mentioned), my eyes shut while picking them.
“Through the Eyes of the Blind ” is a tag, way too dramatic for the stupid story, that inaudibly summarizes how the piece was made. Like how I chose the paint and the brush, I painted this piece with eyes closed, seeing only blank or darkness, which I assumed to be a blind man’s vision at that time at least. The brush strokes only had to follow the tunes of the songs playing through the speakers: Born This Way, Could It Be Any Harder, and DJ Got Us Falling In Love Again.
Whether it did me good or not, I didn’t really care. But I thought it did! 🙂 I then had my first abstract piece apart from having further explored my artistry, and from having discovered another fondness for my hands. And I thought it also did me good to realize that somehow my mind is a wonderful place, that no matter how outrageous things have been inside my head, it never fails to rage with art.
Let me wrap up this experience with just another pop up thought: There’s always more to how much we can do than how much we’ve known we can do.
P.S. I know it’s not beautiful. But let’s just say it’s pretty interesting, isn’t it? 😉