It's interesting how the mind works, how reading something innocuous, like this post from my good friend Khaled can bring an entire missive to life, to resurrect long dead feelings and amplify the mournful cry of emptiness in ones soul.

Time for some context.

It is a little known fact that I am a classically trained fine artist.  I studied for three years with some of the finest living artists I have had the privilege to know at Asbury College.  Going into the program my only real talent was drawing, if you can call it that, but while there I discovered that I had a deep love, if no talent for, painting and I am a gifted sculptor.  It was at Asbury that I actually discovered what drawing was, and developed into a skilled drawer, specifically in the area of the figure.

Having never really tapped, or pushed my potential before this (I had always been a spare time kind of sketcher) I was not prepared for the emotional catharsis that every true artist experiences.  The act of creation is one of will and emotion.  A piece of art that influences and connects with people is one that with every stroke of the brush, every fall of the chisel, has been imbued with raw emotion taken from the reservoir that resides within the artist.

This in part explains the connection between art and healing.  Programs of treatment like art therapy rely on the this catharsis of creation.  This is all well and grand... except that as I said before, I was unprepared for this phenomenon.

My peers in the program had been studying art off and on most of their lives, via private instruction and various summer institutes.  They were at least aware in some rudimentary way of this process and took the necessary steps to protect themselves.

I however walked into the program with no idea, and it nearly destroyed me.

There is within you a Valley

A valley that lives and flourishes drawing its life from the seas of emotion.  It is in this valley that dreams are born, wonder takes wing and imagination reigns atop a throne of childish whimsy.  It is here that the artist draws the emotion needed for creation.

And it was here that my downfall began.  I had been unaware of the existence of this valley for 19 years; Left unchecked its gardens and forests grew tangled and unkempt, the sea was high and violent, a raging storm of chaos and energy waiting to be tapped.  And tap it I did.  In my sophomore year the levy broke and the sea surged forward... I was swept away in its fury and need.  Once loosed the sea of emotion would not be denied and could not be contained.

I was completely consumed in creation, I would lose track of time and place; my focus was overriding and absolute.  It was the most exhilarating time in my life, creation flowed from my fingertips and fell onto the canvas like an avalanche.

I would draw for hours eventually using my hands themselves to coax the image out of the paper, pushing and pulling the charcoal until my vision was realized.  When I finally came back to reality, I would be covered to the elbows with vine charcoal.

In two years I literally drained myself of emotion.  The great surging sea emptied and the valley withered until it was a barren wasteland.  I became hollow and fallow inside, my will to create was gone, my talent had became a traitorous murderer destroying that which gave me meaning and purpose.

All seemed lost, I abandoned art and threw myself into other pursuits.  Some of which you can find on this site.

That which cannot be denied.

Lately I have been noticed something.  I can see again.  The scales have fallen away from my eyes and I see beauty again; everywhere I look, every persons face.  That which I have longed for is happening, I can feel the crash of the sea again inside me.

I see the world through the eyes of the artist again, and dear God it scares me to death.

As the years have rolled by I have begun to despair.  I have been, and still am to a great extent paralyzed by fear.  Fear that I have squandered what was entrusted to me.  I can no longer fight the tidal forces that are rising within me, I will have to start again, but when I do will my talent rise to my summons, or will it have abandoned me?

Will years of neglect and disuse have eroded it away to nothingness, will I even remember how to use it?  Will my hands and eyes remember their purpose?  So many questions with only one answer, one terrifying answer.

I will know the answer soon.  And I will share it with you.