I just got back from a trip to Portugal. It was a vacation, the first I can remember truly having in years. The internet didn’t work in the apartment, my cell phone was useless, all I had was a guidebook and friends. I know that many of my friends can relate. You hear your ring on someone else’s phone and Pavlovian, you reach for your cell. You check your email 5-10 times a day. The text bing sort of fills you with excitement.
I spent a lot of time in Lisbon in contemplative spaces. Parks, overlooks, churches, ruins, museums. Places where you can take in where you stand as an individual in comparison to world history. Yet, especially in these spaces the “curation” of the pieces—whether you are talking about megaliths, moorish lookouts, palaces, roman ruins, maritime history–is all a narration of history, people, morality, popularity, transcendence and transfer into history.
Since teaching Writing From Personal Experience I have been endlessly inspired, hollowed out, filled in, stretched and organized. And I am also very conscious of other’s personal narratives (the way we organize our life experience) and fight against the cognitive dissonance which is the entropic force in life (the unexpected, the shocking, the gasp).
So parts of your own narrative are true, or truthy, but I do believe it is a stretchy dough. You can make bread, pastry, sculpture, doorstops, bangles out of it. So I am going to rewrite my personal narrative or at least recast it.
Materials: craft paper, pencil, tacks
Time: endless, but this is the first week
Focus: none, it is just coming out of where-ever, I have noticed that there are column themes, groupings. Desire for more color and pictures.
The picture is not very good, but then again, I am grateful to my camera for a tad bit of privacy 😉
Til next time, as the sketching continues!