Hi. hello you.
It’s like your brain is talking in bird language, with random thoughts and feelings and inklings na parang mababaliw ka (you’ll go crazy) na kasi you can’t. See the sense, what it all means, it’s like you’re all constipated with all the art that wants to be born and honest to god you don’t have to be this way. Why do you suddenly want to sing? drawing? become a youtube star tomorrow and make 300 pinterest boards the next day – because of reasons.
And that’s okay.
Gurl/fam/honey I’ve been there.
That bird language? THat’s your intution, that’s your inner knowing. And for you who wants a scientific explanation that’s your limbic brain talking. That’s the older part of your brain that has more nerve connections, and is located in the very center and it deals as the seat of your emotions and speaks with images and sensation. And the part where logic resides? Yeah that’s in the frontal lobe, really new part of our brains, and we’re more than that. Some miracles can’t be put to words and some revelations come to you in urges baby.
So how to go about it? What did I find helpful for me
READ YOUR OLD ART, AS IF IT WAS AN ASSIGNMENT IN SCHOOL, OR FROM A DEAD CIVILIZATION
Ok so like you know how the way we try to figure out dead societies’ worldview by reading the subtexts of their literature and epics? Like how by reading the Lamang, we figure out that prehispanic pinay shamans were held in prestige and also had super powers from their betel nut boxes. Stuff like that. Treat your old art like that. Psycho-analysis, inkblot, squint your eyes – understand what belief systems your older self had to have to write something like that and let it speak to you.
How did i do this to me ? Ah well. Okay practical example. I had OCs , original characters when i was in gradeschool, and just like any typical wannabe artist I projected my frustrations , dreams and worldviews to every single one of them in fun fictional stories. Like tiny aspects of me, they tended to have similiar problems to me, in a vaguely similar circumstances, but different and distant enough that I imagined them being cool enough to solve them in the name of character development. It some crazy convoluted, subconscious, and get this INTUITIVE way, writing them solving their problems actually solves mine too. And i was downright obsessed with this one character named ysa. SHE IS A MINOR CHARACTER I TELL YOU, but i kept gravitating to her psychosis, her relationship with her sibling. And i realized – oh this author has major issh with their siblings and i’m like.
Wait, hoe. dat me.
And i recall the story i wrote for ysa and her younger brother migz. Two widely different siblings, who would go to hell – straight up loyal to each other – but outright have been using each other as a crutch. Migz is this super sickly talented boy who has difficulty in saying no to his headstrong alpha male sister, who took care of him in his early life. And ysa’s this over ambitious but self destructive woman, who needed to get into a car accident to realize she’s been hurting inside. She got into a fight with her life long businesspartner/ on-off lover on that day of the accident, and the drama is hella fun to write.. But the scene that stayed with me..
Was that after the two siblings were enstranged, migz went to ysa’s hospital room and drew flowers on her leg cast while she was sleeping. That i don’t even have to write them talking, i wrote in the perspective of ysa’s lover, that he saw that two’s understanding of each other is depthless, automatic, innate and it just needed time and space.
And when I realized I kept having to rewrite this ONE TINY SIDESTORY. What do you think that says about me? What’s my intuition trying to shout down my ear? That migz+ysa story resonates with me like ten thousand church bells, that his story of independence is something i’d like to write into my own life – by i dunno – writing a blog and making money off my creative pursuits one day.
*wink wink. Patreon donate button ? HAHA
No but for real though! This was revelationary to me and the day i picked up the pen again to draw, write and make art for no good reason left me in sobbing tears. SO PLS! Listen to your old art as a lens for your inner knowing, look into the depths of your own self and find the wayward parts of your soul and just reunite. Do it hon, they waiting for you.
Halove you. See you next blog time!
Prompts/ pegs: look through old drafts, go through your baul old storage boxes old poems art and stories and reflect, for further references check out art therapy for PTSD patients making masks of their fears – really powerful shit. THEN TELL ME ABOUT IT OKAY???