The start of 2016 rocked my 2015 into a rumble. Pulled the rug out from under me. Threw a pie in my face.
Facing loss, change, new beginnings and closed doors, I started the year with fear, sadness, grief, uncertainty. What was my life?
I went to an art therapy workshop in January that was supposed to SPARK my passions, rejuvenate my spirit. It was like walking into a therapeutic Michael’s store. She had every sort of craft material I’ve ever dreamed of, from sparkly things to ribbon to different shaped wood to colored sand to every sticker ever made. Overwhelming but exciting.
I wasn’t really feeling anything until I saw a stack of scrap-booking paper. I pulled out the colors I liked, patterns I liked, designs that were pretty. I ended up with a collage of different cut papers.
I wanted my collage, my colors, the patterns, to clash. To be ugly or jagged or chaotic. Because that’s how I felt. My mind, my emotions, my new found life felt chaotic and annoying and I wanted this piece of art to be annoying and hard on the eyes.
When I was done, I was slightly proud because I thought it looked cool, slash slightly peeved because it didn’t look that ugly or gross, like I wanted in the beginning. Other people in the group said they felt my canvas had a lot of meaning behind it, it showed layers of emotion that expressed beauty and connection.
I’ve shown my collage to only 2 friends. They have given me polite compliments and didn’t ask much about it. Outside the group, it doesn’t mean anything.
I can’t decide if I should hang it in my office, as I’d have to stare at it everyday. Thinking of my awkward attempt to create chaos in an already chaotic life.