I.T.s.
I.T.s. is an entity.
I.T.s. is a part of a
larger being. And
that being is me.
I’m not drawing my I.T.s. I’m
drawing my relationship with
them. My response to them.
My defiance of them. I’m
articulating their contradictions.
There’s a lot of factors as to why my I.T.s.
are getting worse,
it could be the lack of social interaction with friends,
isolation, maybe fears and uncertainties of the future?
Or anxieties of the present?
I’m a perfectionist.
I’m sure this stems from childhood,
teachers' expectations of my work/them
not understanding my learning style
and demanding perfect results
for meaningless work.
Whatever it came from, it stuck with me.
Recently I started drawing again.
My I.T.s. scream at me everytime
a line isn’t “perfect” or to its “standards,”
its near-impossible standards of “perfection.”
I began talking out loud to my I.T.s.,
telling them what I really feel about them.
How they hurt me constantly and how I know
they just want me to die or give up.
They tell me terrible things all the time
and I wonder on days that I do “nothing”
why I’m so tired?
Because I’m fighting these I.T.s. constantly.
I’m in a constant battle with them.
So I’ve been talking back at them.
And drawing simultaneously.
Drawing what I feel about them.
Drawing the constant instabilities of emotions
in my mind that I face everyday.
Some drawings are “whole” or calm,
while others the darkness creeps in
or totally devours the page.
I use red to fill in the forms I draw when
there are moments of silence in my head.
I feel like it’s so rare. Silence.
So that’s what I’ve been doing.
I’ve been fighting them, the I.T.s.,
trying to regain control of my mind.
Trying to bring back the silence.
Sometimes I feel like they’re winning.
I smash my marker in my clenched fist
onto the paper and scream.
But really it is me who is winning,
for I remain in control.
I hear what they have to say and I do the opposite.
I keep living and I keep drawing
in order to release these caged up
bloodthirsty monsters from my mind.
So that’s what I’ve been doing.
Itemized Inventory List
1) I like defying my perfectionism.
2) Repetition is something I both medicate with and must be resurrected from.
3) I like to visualize articulatulations of contradictions.
4) I’ve benefited emotionally by being more ambitious with my artwork.
5) I tend to constantly question thoughts I know are based in reality.
6) Lately, I have initiated changes in my work that made me uncomfortable.
7) I try to be inspired by what I survive through on a daily basis - which I’ve found to be difficult.
8) I tend not to avoid difficult subjects.
9) I like to see things from unexplored perspectives.
10) When you’ve normalized being numb, one is increasingly prone to internal judgments.
11) I fear the concept of accepting reality.
12) While I appreciate being comfortable, often I can’t stay in a comfortable place long enough to maintain a significant amount of safety due to fear it will soon end.
13) I learn more by getting lost.
“Maps”
I learn more by getting lost.
You use maps in the way that best suits your pilgrimage. While there is often an overwhelming amount of information on them, the user is still able to decipher the path that they wish to take. Additionally, there is generally more than one way to get to your destination. One passage may be more elongated, but offer a more scenic route, while another may be direct and faster, but may not offer the same time for reflections of your natural environment. Customarily, we choose the quickest line which appears to be satisfactory, though this oftentimes erases the process of our physical and mental travel. I find this quandary to relate closely with the concept of creating art. The incremental steps taken to establish a work of art are often overlooked as simply the means to create the final product - as it is this final product with which the viewer will undoubtedly interact and critique. There is nothing inherently wrong with this method of creation, nonetheless, it is important for the artist to maintain a level of control and respect toward this process, for it is sacred. Without the process, there is nothing, and nothing is the knowledge cultivated from the creation.
My intention in creating these drawings was to transfer the constant confusion that inhabits my mind onto the viewer. Each intertwining line can easily be followed with their eyes, but the sheer amount of varying colors and shapes bombard the observer in attempts to draw their attention away from their original trajectory. This chaotic labyrinth forms a complex and disconcerting matrix that has many “starts” and “finishes.” I’ve decided in the creation of these pieces that I wanted both the starting location and end location to be ambiguous and open to interpretation. I often find myself in a position where I have trouble making my way out of these cryptic mazes, and I want to convey to the viewer the disorienting nature of finding oneself. I continually feel trapped within these perplexing entanglements and feel confined and isolated. As a result of this, I decided to display the positions that I often find myself trapped in. I’ve found that for one to learn the internal mental wanderings of another individual, they must be introduced visually to their struggles in order to better grasp the reality they’re experiencing. So that’s what I’ve done.
