Season greetings dear readers: it has been ages since I last wrote on my blog. Apologies; I proportion part of the blame on severe writer’s block and the other half on the trauma that came with going back to being a student.
The Ninth sketch form the Black Sketchbook was drawn during my first few weeks at Uni. I have always wanted to be more than just a pretty girl, I could very well handle the days when my mother put me in a dress and tried to make me look pretty for guests or pictures or parties but I always felt constricted and uncomfortable. However the older I grew, the more appealing it was to be just a pretty girl, nothing more, nothing less. I felt like it didn’t help to be deep because depth brought with it a depressing atmosphere; “I was always making the people around me think more than they usually would”. When I did try to be just a pretty girl, I looked in the mirror and it was not me. I was definitely surprised by how long it took me to accomplish ‘the look’, I was surprised by how different it made me look, but I was mostly surprised by how easily I had caved in. Then I started to think..
What happens when you are no longer conceived as a pretty girl?
What happens when your charm fades and your face is no longer bright?
What happens when you grow old and your back starts to hunch over, you can no longer walk in those stylish heels, and your face is covered in wrinkles and your hair is white and people are no longer drawn to you?
What happens when you start to feel irrelevant and imperfect in a society where the standards are so high?
How far would you go to feel like a pretty girl again?
After all that thinking I laughed because I realized that none of this actually matters If I continue to just be myself.
The Ninth sketch isn’t one of my favorites but I think she definitely nailed the expression I had when I looked in the mirror, surprised but also subtle hint of disappointment. Back then I seldom used coal in my drawings, but I did here. Perhaps I did it as a reflection of my sudden willingness to try new things. I don’t know.
The Sixth piece from the Black Sketchbook was the first of its kind, simply because it is a colour pencil sketch. Chaos is unexplainable. It was August 2013 and my nuclear family lost an important asset it was not too bad; Mother said that it was going to be okay. I believed her but I knew that the ‘okay’ period would only come in the long run. It dawned on me that I needed a summer Job to get the things that I wanted, and I totally got one. Working at M restaurant was a life changing experience, it was my first summer job and I loved and hated it. I loved it because I loved earning my own money; it was liberating. I loved meeting new people; because it helped me develop a new outlook towards life, and I was content with my work colleagues. But I hated the job and I knew, without doubt that I hated it more than I loved it.
Similarly to Champagne and Canapés (2), drawing Chaos gave my subconscious a lot of discretion. Therefore it is uneasy to pinpoint what inspired it. However, I do remember that she started off as someone staring at her reflection in the mirror and after a few shifts at work, she became two different women, and the bags underneath her eyes became darker and more profound. And she suddenly developed holes in her dress and her companion developed a deep cut in her back. Chaos could either be the product of the loss of the asset or the unfulfilling summer job which I definitely hated more than I loved. She could either be the creation of an unpredicted chaotic event or a roll of continuous chaotic events. In any case, she is the reflection of the helplessness and dejection I felt at the time. It is weird how different this is from the last piece which was drawn in the same month. The Dancing woman (5) reminds me more of a light happy feeling, whilst this is heavy and melancholic. August (2013) was a weird month.
The Fifth sketch in the Black Sketchbook was inspired by results day. I was frightened I think I nearly had a heart attack when I found out that I didn’t make the A* AA grade required by my first choice university. I was not shocked or upset because I saw this coming; there was no way that my French exam was an A. And halfway through the exam period, I changed my mind about my first choice university; it no longer appealed to me. I think was more distraught by the ‘what now?’ question staring intently into my eyes and breathing on my face. It was suffocating. For once I did not have a plan, I was going to end up wherever the wind took me and that freaked me out. I knew only 3 things in that moment, “I do not want to go to a University in London”, “I want to go to a university that has a study abroad programme” and “Law is the only course that could ever make me happy”.
I was fortunate and everything worked out in my favour on the same day. I could breathe and my breath in that moment felt like a dance. The Dancing Woman is one of my favourite pieces because she is the embodiment of how I felt throughout the latter part of result’s day. Everything, from the movement of her legs down to the flounce of her dress accurately portrays the lightness I felt in that moment. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, it was surreal. I remember thinking “getting something that you desperately want has the strangest effect”. Every time I look at her, I remember that slow motion feeling to the point where she almost looks like she is dancing in slow motion. I think it would have been brilliant if I had sketched something when I found out that I did not make the required grades, that way I would have a perfect record of the whole day.
To anyone who recently obtained their A Level results, if things did not go as planned don’t fret. Sometimes not having a plan works out better.
This is the third piece from the Black Sketchbook. It took me longer than expected to write about The lady in the hat.
From a young age I have admired people who had to ability to wear a smile whilst enduring unbearable physical or mental state. People who could do that had self control, they were graceful and I liked to imitate them. It was only until I grew older that I realised that eyes have the ability to convey the unsettling stories of the heart; stories that the mouth is forbidden from communicating. Suddenly I understood that lips may curve into a smile but eyes have the power to betray you and sell you out.
The lady in the hat is one of my favourite pieces from the Black Sketchbook because she is beautiful, her eyes are striking, her face is readable and the contents of her heart are written in her eyes. Her face seems to radiate warmth and a weird glow but at the same time her eyes are cold and her expression has lingering presence of deceit. Through her eyes, I can tell that something is wrong but I don’t know what it is. It is like she is making a restrained cry for help. I find her situation compatible with today’s society; we humans have constructed a fake illusion of freedom, we tell ourselves that we are free to do anything within the law of the land. Yet some of us cannot freely do simple things like expressing ourselves.
But we are not to blame, we can’t tell everyone everything, no one likes an upset person and for all we know, smiling might be the only antidote for our troubles.
Hi guys, welcome to my art space. On here I will post stuff derived from my mind and created with my hands. Enjoy!