It's In the Night That I Feel Most Creative
I don't know what it is about the early AM hours, but my creativity always blooms amongst the darkness and quiet they bring. Despite the sirens in my body telling me to rest, (as hectic the days I have are, why wouldn't they be screaming?) my brain refuses to let me sleep, and consequently, I trudge on: painting, writing -whatever my soul desires- and my limbs work freely, wholly, bringing about a sort of peace within me that I can't justly explain.
I find that in those dim hours, I am me and no one else: I am not mom, I am not wife, I am not daughter, sister, I simply am, and I feel like that's a very special undertaking, however fleeting.
I'm not intentionally a night owl, in fact, growing up I used to be quite the opposite. In elementary, I'd be in bed by 7 pm and up bright and early the next morning at 6, even during summer vacation. It wasn't until high school that the title, "night-owl" found its home within me.
It began when procrastinated art projects turned into all-nighters (a novelty that happened several times throughout my high school career) and the habit has followed me now into adulthood.
It's a manner I have yet to grow out of, and since the birth of my youngest, Jiynx (who is only now, at 6 months, sleeping (mostly) through the night) is one I won't be able to break anytime soon.
I'm writing this the day after one such sleepless night; my eyes feel as though they're dragging my forehead down with them each time I blink, and I anticipate hitting my desk table. Although I attempted to go to bed early (I did, but awoke at 1:30 am, and stayed up until 4:30, only to nap another two hours before heading to the gym at 6:30 and have been up since (it is now nearly two)) it was a failed attempt, to say the least.
On the bright side, I got some painting done. A little piece I had started in the day, already titled, called, "Death the Siren Seeps"
She is a freehand piece (most of my paintings are-- although there are plenty others made using picture references) and the idea for her came to fruition after a few hours of "maybe this will work, maybe that," as I blocked color onto canvas.
Continuous thoughts play in my head at the start of most freehand paintings, "what do you see?" and "what can you picture?" The first question lingers on the present, while the second looks to the future: both are invaluable to my artistic process.
Painting is a journey down a long, rugged path into the framework of my mind, and the night? The night is the portal that opens on the occasion, offering me a shortcut, in which the mind flows easily and my hands follow.
As tired as I come to be from staying up late, I do not regret doing so. My mind feels more at peace throughout the day, and it's easier to remind myself to practice patience with my children (I barely have the energy to do otherwise).
I may not be able to stay up late all the time (as in 2 am- 4 am late, not 12 am late because that's an every night occurrence), but for the days that I am able, they're appreciated quite massively.
In the darkness, I rediscover who I am; I find my mind, and its lingerings, emotions, and intentions. It's in the night that I feel most raw with myself, and when I best enjoy my own company.
I suppose in its purest form, the darkness embraces me. The darkness accepts me; I hide for no one.
It's in the night that I feel most creative, but more than that, I conclude, I feel the most me.
don't mind the glare...I forgot to take a good photo
before hanging it in a shop, this photo is from their website
Post a Comment