The things that live inside us

I was cleaning off an old hard drive from a desktop I used years ago, and I came across a whole bunch of files I thought I'd lost. Among these were some various art-ish things, which, according to the file info, are from about ten years ago (it still blows my mind when I recall something that falls into my "years ago" mental category, and it turns out that it was a *decade* ago o_o!). Nostalgia impels me to share some of them here. (Bem, na verdade, eu omito os desenhos pro quais eu estou a mais nostálgica, rsrs... mas em todo caso...)

These ones are scans of some things I did in my grade 9 art class:

I think we had to paint these using fake flowers as a reference, hehe.

I think this was based on a photo from National Geographic.

I don't remember working on this one at all, but I must have used a photo for reference here as well.

This one my brother drew (bonus points if you recognize the character!), and I scanned his drawing for my first-ever attempt at colouring something on the computer... using a mouse. :| I'm pretty sure it took me forever, and I think in the end the only part I was happy with was the right shoulder. Haha..

Some random little images:

The bottom ones were probably playing around with my tablet, once I got one.

This may be the only piece of fan art I ever produced. It was for a webcomic that I'm sure has long since ceased to exist.

After some point, I think I just sketched random crap now and then:

I think I pretty much didn't draw at all after around this time. It's kind of strange, because I definitely enjoyed doing it. But... it's weird: thinking back, even though I recall liking doing stuff like this, I can't imagine the feeling of actually *wanting* to do it. You know, the sort of state you're in when you're thinking something like "Ooh, I know! I'm going to do X!", just before you actually go and do it. Being compelled to do something. It's something I used to struggle with, actually -- rarely (if ever) having that feeling of wanting to do specific things, in an immediate sense (as opposed to hypothetically). That's not to say that there weren't lots of things I enjoyed once I was doing them... but I think my tendency was to sort of idly drift into doing things, rather than actively seeking out the activity. Or some external stimulus would make me suddenly want to do something, instead of the inclination spontaneously coming from me.

I guess this is the reason why, for a long time, the only things I really did for fun either were passive (e.g., reading, watching anime/tv/movies, listening to music) or inherently prompted further continuous action (e.g., video games). Perhaps one exception to this was designing and making graphics/layouts for sites. Inexplicably, I used to really like making layouts. (Sadly, I couldn't find any of them on that old hard drive... I guess they're gone forever. :( ) Maybe it had something to do with the combination of aesthetics and functionality -- that the thought of using them afterwards (and actually getting to *see*, on a regular basis, the nice-looking thing I made, unlike with most art I might have produced) made me want to do it. But yeah, it really used to bother me, this general lack of internal desire or motivation to do things I enjoyed.

I think that, by and large, I'm only really compelled do things that make me feel something. Looking at and using layouts I'd made kind-of-sort-of-almost falls into that category (probably due to the aesthetic aspects), but loosely. Better, more recent examples would be playing guitar (and singing), or horseback riding (a hugely physical kind of "feeling" here -- I guess you could call it exhilaration), or dancing. Both playing music and dancing are able to stir up all kinds of things in me, and those things can vary greatly depending on the type of music or dancing. (I won't even begin to try to describe the incredible array of things dance is capable of evoking in me... it adds a whole other dimension to the already vast spectrum of what music alone can do.) So on the one hand, they can elicit strong feelings from me. But on the other hand, if I'm already feeling something, they also provide a means of getting it out of me.

Hm, then I guess writing belongs on my list as well. I thought of it in the context of expression of emotion, but in truth I suppose the writing example means that the whole making/letting-me-feel-stuff thing goes beyond emotions. For instance, if I have some kind of complex idea(s) that I want to communicate (or even just sort out for myself), not only is writing immensely helpful in shaping it into something coherent that effectively conveys the idea, but it's also incredibly satisfying to reach the point in composing a piece of writing where everything fits. The various ideas are all there, expressed clearly and concisely with natural progression and flow, and everything is tied together nicely into something that says just what you want it to say. It's this wonderful sort of mental release, to finally be able to take this mysterious, complex thing that was alive in your head, and to put it out there into the world in a faithful representation of what it was inside of you. [In a way, the process of constructing that understandable representation is satisfying in the same way formulating proofs is (or was), at least for me; the solution, or some part of it, just comes to you in a flash, and at first you don't yet know what it is -- it's there in your head, and you can see it, and you know (or think) that it's the thing you were looking for, but it takes some time to examine it, to tease it apart until you recognize in its amorphous form familiar subcomponents, and finally how they all fit together. And there's this huge satisfaction that comes from taking those subcomponents, putting them together, on paper, in the way you observed them to relate in your mind, and seeing that, yes!, everything fits, and you've got exactly the thing that initially came to you in that flash.]

I suppose, in general then, it's all about achieving that release that comes from effective expression: from getting whatever is alive inside of you out into the world. Whether it's heartbreak coming out as song, ideas as an essay, pent-up energy as a sprint down the hall, or anger as a throat-rending scream, we each pick the most effective means we have for getting things out of us. In one of my classes a few weeks ago, the prof raised the question of "what is passion?", and I think that it may be these live things inside us, trying to burst their way out.

On the other side of the coin, I guess this is really what allows us to connect with other people as well. To see, there in front of you, produced by another person, a manifestation of the very thing that's alive within you -- to read it in their words, to feel it in the movement of their body; how can you not feel closer to a person, knowing the same thing lives inside you both? It's amazing how the way a person expresses themselves can excite things in you, even if neither of you knew it was there, and even to the point where what was once sleeping within you finally resounds so strongly that you're moved to give voice to it as well. And the positive feedback that can happen: given how satisfying it is to express these live things, it's no wonder we like to surround ourselves with people who share the same passions. They keep them alive in us and make them stronger.

As I said, I used to feel empty in this sense... like I didn't have any of these live things of my own, moving me to do things. Even though other people could transiently excite certain things in me (and a myriad of things at that, with how diverse my interests are), it would never last long beyond the direct influences of those other people, and, left to my own devices, I'd invariably go back to not feeling like doing anything. I'm really glad that in the last few years various people helped to awaken different things in me, and that these things grew strong enough that they've stayed alive in me even without these people around anymore.

So, as far as art goes... I think if I were to be an artist, I'd be an artist of emotion. Even though I enjoy drawing once I'm doing it, I'm not compelled to do it under everyday circumstances. I guess the act itself, though enjoyable, isn't enough so that it alone would move me to do it, and I don't get all that much out of looking at the final product myself (maybe I'd want to do it for a gift or something...). And since my skill isn't great enough to faithfully produce the things that come to mind when I'm compelled to give voice to my emotions, these days I instead turn to the languages in which I have somewhat more fluency, like writing, music and dance.