Tag Archives for journal

Zentangle: Tangle Patterns, Inspiration, and Deconstruction

This is not the original content I wrote to go with this post’s title. The first draft I wrote was a long rant in response to some very tense, unfriendly, and angry exchanges I keep encountering on some Zentangle-related websites and groups since I started using the meditative pattern drawing method. I decided not to post what I wrote because it doesn’t help anyone, least of all the people I see being dumped on, to write another angry post.

I started learning the Zentangle method because of the inherent meditative and mindful aspects of the process of drawing the various patterns. I’ve grown to enjoy getting lost in drawing lines and shapes. I spend a lot of time searching out more patterns online to expand my drawing skills and make the artwork I create in my art/gratitude journal more interesting. However, at times when I’m about to teach myself a new pattern I’ve found online, I notice negative exchanges written in some of the comments sections. It annoys me – actually, I get somewhat angry – because this thing, that is supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing, seems to be more about ownership and monetization than mindfulness.

I think some people forget that doodling has been around for a long time. Everyone does it. Although not everyone that doodles might take the time to name the patterns they draw. I know highlighting these points is going to make me unpopular to anyone who is devoted to the Zentangle method, but here’s the thing, slightly modifying something that already exists and giving it a new name doesn’t make it original or new. If that were the case, we would all be creative geniuses.

The Juggler - University of Notre Dame - May 1929

Cartoon from the commencement issue of The Juggler magazine of University of Notre Dame from May 1929

 

Furthermore, just because you’re inspired to deconstruct a complex pattern or image that was painstakingly created by an uncredited artisan in a woodwork carving, chiseled into a marble archway, painted on ceramic tiles, or stitched in fabric, that doesn’t make what you draw an original pattern. If you look around long enough you can usually find a pattern that existed for years, if not decades or centuries (in the case of ancient tribal and religious symbols) that looks like so-called “original” tangle patterns. At the end of the day, all art is derivative. Artists learn from imitating work produced by other artists, or trying to recreate things they see in the world around them, and they use it as a jumping off point to develop their personal style.

 

That being said, I have to stop letting myself get so bothered when I see some of the terrible things people write to each other in these spaces. As one Certified Zentangle Teacher (CZT) disappointingly stated in a comment I recently read online, for so many people Zentangle is “sadly just about making money”, which is bound to make some of those people more territorial and severe. For now, I will continue to use this drawing method as a creative meditative practice to divert focus away from my pain, but I think it wouldn’t hurt for some of the people getting bent out of shape about the use of patterns they “create” to remember that imitation is the purest form of flattery.

 

Arctic Monkeys – Brick By Brick

We Repeat What We Learn

Have you ever realized that the answer to a problem or confusing situation you were searching for was in front of you the whole time?

I had one of those epiphanies this afternoon after waking from a nap. For a long while, I’ve been trying to figure out the behaviour of one of my brothers. His actions in response to a situation in his life have left me scratching my head and wondering how it’s possible that he can be so cold and detached. I’ve been trying to understand how he can possibly be okay with the knowledge that another person might be suffering because of him. It hit me today that his behaviour was taught to him through the actions or lack of action taken by adults in our lives when we were children.

I’ve been telling myself that I don’t understand his behaviour because we had similar childhood experiences but I didn’t turn out the same as him. The problem with that statement is that I’m wrong. I did turn out the same. I learned the same behaviours he did. However, because I don’t act out against others, I’ve taken an almost self-righteous attitude about how he is living his life. Instead of hurting others, I choose to act out those same behaviours within some areas of my life, which is just as harmful. I choose to hurt myself – not physically but through certain privations – which doesn’t make my actions any less harmful. And it definitely doesn’t mean that I am better adjusted to life than my brother. The scale of my hypocrisy is enormous.

My brother may be an adult, but his actions are those of a small boy because emotionally – and quite possibly psychologically – he has not matured beyond the stage of a child hurt by so many people in his life. The only difference between us is that I can recognize, although not always, when I am triggered and reacting to a situation because of past traumas and I try to figure out how to break out of that space. My brother doesn’t know that he occupies these vastly different temporal spaces and because of this lack of awareness, he’s creating more pain for himself and others. Unfortunately, he has made it clear to me that he doesn’t want my help or that of anyone else who has offered. I only hope he figures some of this out before the hurt he causes becomes too deep to ever be repaired.

 

R.E.M. – Everybody Hurts

 

Flourishing: An Ode To A Yellow Four-Nerve Daisy

After a night of mostly interrupted sleep, I was awake early this morning. To fill my time in the early morning hours I visited the sites of some of the truly interesting people I follow in the online world. One blog I found myself drawn into this morning was Portraits of Wildflowers where Steven Schwartzman shares uniquely beautiful images of wildflowers and other flora and fauna he discovers on his excursions into nature. Looking at his photographs, I don’t feel so shut away and I learn things I wouldn’t have an opportunity to otherwise.

This morning as I clicked through some of his recent posts, I had visceral reactions to some of the images. One in particular, a photo of a hairy white larkspur flower (Delphinium carolinianum ssp. Penardii) before its petals opened, made the hair on my body stand on end. I can’t remember having that kind of reaction to a flower before. The image of a rain-lily (Cooperia pedunculata) tricked my eyes into seeing the soft brush strokes of a floral portrait. While the bent stalk of a bright yellow four-nerve daisy (Tetraneuris linearifolia), and the words Steven Schwartzman used to describe its fate, inspired my brain to connect with the tips of my fingers to create an ode to that single delicate bloom.

Bent but still flourishing © 2016 Steven Schwartzman

Bent but still flourishing © 2016 Steven Schwartzman

 

On days like today, I don’t mind not having slept much. Creating something has a way of making me feel grounded and easing agitation and anxiety that is sometimes caused by a lack of sleep. Besides, how can I not feel lifted by a bright yellow daisy or Steven Schwartzman’s generosity in granting me permission to post his image?

Flourishing