Dina Climatiano

Crayons

A couple of years ago I was given some crayons. They have been staring at me from the little corner of the room where I set up an easel and some other materials in the hopes that I might learn to draw “properly” at some point. Even signed up for a Udemy class and everything (yes, I believe it was the height of the pandemic).

But I haven’t drawn anything in a while.

This makes it sound as if there was a time I was an artist, but I never considered myself one. Prolific doodler? Sure, but by no means an artist.

Still… In my younger days, I’d pick up new hobbies and modalities of expression with such ease. I’d sit down with a set of pencils or watercolors or whatever, and just… Explore. It helped that we always had art supplies lying around the house because my sister was and still is an artist.

I always loved the idea of being able to render an image accurately. Although I do have some innate talent, I never had the discipline to develop it properly or the patience to practice. This, it seems, is a recurring theme in my life.

I never developed beyond mimicry, either, and I never really felt like art, be it visual or musical, was an expression of something within me. Come to think of it, the idea of expressing something from within me is terrifying. The act of accurately transmitting what I’m thinking or who I really am seems uncomfortably intimate to me.

Nowadays I’m disappointed with myself long before I take out the sketch pad. The mere idea of simply exploring with no plan is extremely uncomfortable and forced, and I lose focus very quickly. Frankly, most of the time it is a losing battle with my phone.

This doesn’t just happen with visual arts, but with any type of artistic expression. I can follow a class or a workshop, but I don’t actually sit myself down to create anything anymore. It feels like I never do anything unless there’s a deadline attached and some sort of stakes (hence this challenge!).

If I slow down the dialogue in my head, it sounds a little bit like “it’s not going to be good” or “it’s a waste of time and materials” and my least favorite: “who do you think you are? Go do the dishes or something”.

Usually these voices win, and the crayons remain in their boxes, sketchpad untouched. To get them out I need to have a very conscious discussion with myself about why spending time doing something creative is important, why it’s good to suck at things occasionally and why self-expression, or even just doing something with my hands, for once, is not a waste of time but an act of kindness and self care. At the very least it’s better for me than watching yet another episode of Netflix real-estate porn.

In true millennial fashion, I’ve lost my train of thought trying to describe the plight of my dopamine-deficient generation. And all this to say:

Here’s today’s offering.

Enjoy, or something.