Stillness: Art at its Purest

Lately, I've felt the need for more structure in my life (forgetting that I work 8:30 to 5 and follow a strict running and writing schedule). I think I am yearning for creative structure, which might very well only exist outside grippable realms.

I sought structure in art. My hands wanted an occupation that veered away from the constant tapping of the keys. And so, I thought, I'll paint! My mother paints, my bestie paints, J paints, and I have multiple friends who knit, draw, or create things. Not stories, but actual, tangible objects. Perhaps I'm seeking tangibility and not necessarily structure. I want to see success rather than just feel it or logically know it's there.

I didn't know I had these thoughts until I typed them out.

So I tried painting. Socially, it is a fun task. But still a task, not a soothing outlet or creative expression. I gave it another whirl, but it felt like work. While I don't view art as non-work (because it is work! Oh it is!), I find it to be an extraction or release of inner thought, which (in my opinion) should be enjoyable. Especially if the intention is to use the painting as an outlet. My hands are not equipped to glide a paintbrush, and I must strive for imperfection in order to accept that the results will not be perfect. While I have an eye for color and arrangement, I do not possess that talent that translates depth to paper or other medium. It is unfortunate because I can see the difference and know how it should look. It's like searching for a word that you know, but not being able to get it quite right. You know it's wrong, but you don't know how to fix it.

I simply have no patience for hands on creation. I like to work with my hands, but not necessarily to make things. I suppose I prefer to maintain them? I think that's the right word...

What I'm trying to get at here is that art is different for everyone. I think art is when you experience a stillness that causes you to think only about the present. Not even the present, but about the art itself. Art is that which reminds you of nothing else. For example, music is my art, my stillness.

I listen to songs I love, and there is nothing else. My favorite songs do not make me think of other songs or stories or pictures or situations or anything...they simply exist to me as a fragment of stillness.

I can become lost in a song.

It's a different type of stillness than a quiet, early morning on a mountain peak. A great line from a book or essay might have the same effect, but eventually those lines make me think, which leads to other thoughts and soon the stillness is only a gossamer strand of the past.

Music is the stillness that sticks, even if only for the length of the song. I wonder if this is why I feel I need music in my ears while I write. Do I crave the stillness of a song to calm my thoughts? I've always used music to block out worldly noises, but perhaps it triggers a stillness in my thought that I attempt to channel into my writing.

I think I'll experiment: writing w/ music vs. writing w/out.

And no more hands on art for me. It's just not my style.