The Power of Waiting
Making meaning in between subway stops
If last week was all about drawing family, this week it’s back to strangers. I was back in New York, surrounding myself with throngs of sweaty people all with the communal goal of not melting in the heatwave.
My friend’s boyfriend gave me this tiny sketchbook (what a gem) back in March during my last NY stint, and this time I really hit my stride. It is officially my new “waiting book”, a term coined by Carol from my retreat for the little notebook that fits in every bag and turns idle time into fruitful meditations on the humanity that surrounds us. All in a few square inches!
Converting the wait into a drawing meditation reminds me of Pema Chödrön’s concept of refraining that I’ve been thinking a lot about:
“Refraining is… the practice of not immediately filling up space just because there’s a gap…Through refraining, we see there’s something between the arising of the craving…and whatever action we take as a result. If we immediately entertain ourselves by talking, by acting, by thinking…we will never be able to relax. Refraining is a way of making friends with ourselves at the most profound level possible”.
Technically I am filling the space with drawing but at least it’s better than texting toxic boys!
The subway is a built-in figure drawing workshop with timed poses - only a couple minutes between each stop. The loose hand and intentional marks without time to overthink create my most vivid expressions. Something about the small scale also gives me confidence.
There’s a lesson in there too - is it to start small? Does everything need to be a lesson? Or am I grasping at meaning in the absence of a job through the substackification of my life? I think we know the answer…
Speaking of sketchbooks, I completed my Europe book and started a new one. There is no more satisfying object than a completed sketchbook, especially if you’re proud of most pages. That’s a new feeling for me and now I’m addicted.
Drawing is still very much functioning as a grounding tool for me. Now that I have less of an itinerary post-trip, this is extra important. As long as I see it as practice for the future to-be-determined big project of my life (no rush, no presh as Alex would say), it gives purpose to any given moment.
Seeing other art is also grounding, and provides excellent A/C. Two noteworthy shows I saw: John Singer Sargent at the Met (is it me or are the 1880s having a major moment?) and Toyin Ojih Odutola at Jack Shainman. I was blown away in both shows by the color and treatment of light, as well as the mastery of their respective mediums.
At the Met, I sat down on a bench and looked up to find I was at the Gates of Hell. Coincidence?
Inspired by Wendy McNaughton and Ruth Asawa, I also threw on my grandfather’s Brooks Brothers shirt (other one, not Papa guy) and swung by FiDi to visit Louise Nevelson Plaza. A little oasis in the cement jungle for finance interns to eat lunch and taxi drivers to take a smoke break. It seemed like they appreciated it.
Of course, there are still some moments where drawing or seeing art isn’t enough to fight off the anxiety of this transitional moment. Sometimes I have to call in reinforcements:
Clear eyes. Full Sketch Book. Can’t Loose.