Art, Surrender, Worship

On Making Art

On Making Art

At some point, some of you started reading here for the words. I’ve felt a little guilty for the lack of them this summer. I’ve worried about becoming obsolete, about being forgotten.

And then I let all of that go, and stepped away quietly anyway. 

While I haven’t had many words held out for consumption, I have feasted on the words of others. I’m stuffed right full of literary goodness, my heart aching with the deliciousness of all I’ve managed to inhale.

dance

I’ve quit this blog a hundred times in my head since April. I’ve read so many scrumptious works that I’ve felt in moments that I am finished with writing, that there is nothing left to be said. But then my green fever ebbs and I remember that no one sounds quite like me. And I recall that there are stories I’ve yet to tell–stories I’ve held tightly to out of fear of judgment and rejection. 

So I bite my lip and clutch those stories tighter. It’s a slower labor than I imagined, the way they’re slipping ever-so-quietly down in me, closer to the edges of light that burns to overcome their shadowed presence in my head. I need to tell them. But like all good procrastinators, I walk away from the keyboard. Instead, I turn to my art journal and I begin making art.

selfie sketch

One Sunday afternoon, I sketch out a “selfie”.  As part of my sabbath keeping, I’m learning to give myself permission to dabble in my art because for me, that is rest. I hold my breath and share it publicly on my social media triangle–Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. Your kindness drips steady across my screen all afternoon, and I feel a little braver for it.

Showing my art feels a bit like purposely shedding clothing in the presence of another. The vulnerability of it downright shocks the heart. Like that time in North Dakota while camping on a mission trip when I washed my hair with the nearly frozen ground water–how it literally took my breath away and stung with frigidity.  A friend tells me I’m brave but I feel more the fool. I am cruel to my art, abusively pointing out all it’s imperfections. Oh how I ache for redemption here–

The summer’s half gone and I don’t write much, but I paint, and I sketch, and I fight against the *shoulds*. I beat against whatever it is inside of me that holds on to stories, all white-knuckled and gasping. I practice bravery one share at a time and after the vulnerability hangover has eased, I realize that I am in fact, still standing. I’m no worse for wear. The contractions haven’t killed me.

I labor on.

With each stroke of the pencil, I’m learning more about who God created me to be. With each swath of the paintbrush, I’m learning about how I like color and what my voice looks like without any words.

So maybe at one point you came here because of the words. Maybe all this talk of drawing and painting seems weird. It’s part of a story I haven’t been brave enough to tell you yet–but I’m getting closer.

 

Some friends of mine are hosting MADE,  an online course for Christian Creatives. It’s a 12 week course for just $80 and the content is yours for keeps. So you’re free to take your time with it, to go back through the parts you loved, or struggled with, or simply wanted to do again. I got a sneak-peek at the art journaling session, and can I just say, that alone is worth the price. But that’s just one avenue of the course. There’s more. Wherever you are in your art journey, this is a beautiful place to connect and be encouraged and inspired to keep making art, for heaven’s sake.  Find out more HERE. Register HERE.

Made E-Course

Comments

  1. Jody Ohlsen Collins

    Kris, if you don’t write, then how will I know what I think? To wit, these phrases,
    “While I haven’t had many words held out for consumption, I have feasted on the words of others. I’m stuffed right full of literary goodness, my heart aching with the deliciousness of all I’ve managed to inhale.” I would have said that but you said it first. And better. 🙂

    My point is, whether it’s sporadic or not, I think Jesus wants us to keep on keepin’ on. Especially when it’s sporadic. Does that make sense? Because I hear your ‘voice’ even when you’re not there (in a normal-kinda way. Smile).
    And just so you know, I’ve started an art journal because of you. (tho’ I’m not brave enough to share photos yet.)
    You are a silent encourager/inspiration. (And I love your flower photos on Facebook!)

    Reply
  2. I mean this as sincerely as I possibly could – everything piece of art you’ve created – words, drawings, color, food, photos – all of it is brave and beautiful and it’s from HIM. I am always, always inspired by it. Love this and love you. Keep laboring on, brave friend.

    Reply
  3. Elizabeth Anne May

    Your words here — and your art — are luscious. I feel fed here today. I, too, have been online so much less, wondering and worrying over shoulds, but also learning stillness and finding fulfillment in the present moment. I’m learning how to settle into my own skin, be who I am — no apologies.

    Reply
  4. Thank you for this straight to the heart message, Kris. I can really identify. I also am trying to find the me God created me to be. I am doing more art journaling since the support group, and I find it’s pulling out some long repressed creativity in me. It’s still so very stilted, but bit by bit I’m coming out. I try not to look at all the imperfections and tell myself God accepts me just as I am. I remember being imaginative and creative as a child, but life’s hurts stifled it.

    Reply
  5. Wow, what a beautiful post. I’ve been away on vacation for a couple of weeks, and am just now getting around to getting caught up. This post was stunning. It spoke deeply into my heart. At least once a week (in my mind) I quit social media, and sometimes blogging, but before the quitting becomes reality, I remember that the Lord plugged me into all this blogging business and He has not released me from it. So I continue…cautiously and reverently. Blessings to you.

    Reply
  6. Det lÃ¥ter jättetrevligt och jag undrar om jag skulle kunna fÃ¥ Ã¥ka med?Min man är halvtysk och hans fars familj bodde i norra Tyskland och Glücksburg (alldeles intill Flensburg) och jag vill jämt Ã¥ka dit, men sen mannen mins farmor gick bort har han inte lust……..trÃ¥kig karl, eller hur! Nu ska jag sätta igÃ¥ng en liten övertalningskampanj igen…..Agneta kram

    Reply
  7. The state bureacracy gave me a giant "F*ck you" until the muscle showed up on my behalf.===============================My point exactly. You were able to find and apply muscle. But it was the state that got you help, not the insurance company.What kind of muscle would you have applied direct to the company?

    Reply
  8. Sapience malivole, merci de vos explications. Mais alors, j’en reviens à ma question : une citation dans laquelle on change les noms des personnages évoqués, est-ce déjà une citation ou déjà une paraphrase ?

    Reply

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