Ferocious Kindness - 2026 01 01

 

Self portrait in progress - graphite, pencil crayon, acrylic ink wash on paper - 9" x 12"

I sort the pencil crayons. Out of their numbered slots in the storage box and into cups from the cupboard - one per colour and then one each for the brown tones and the black, greys, and whites. 

I pick up the collection of blues and mix them around in my hand. I look at the colour of the pencil leads and select out three according to tone - a dark blue, mid-blue and light blue. I'm not looking at the temperature of the blues, just the transition in tone from dark to light in three stages.

The electric pencil sharpener is jammed. I empty it and clean out the grinding face. It works fine after that and I sharpen each blue pencil to a long, fine point.

The fireplace is glowing warm in the cool winter afternoon. The first day of the year. I set up my drawing station beside the fire and set to work adding three layers of blue to yesterday's ink wash over graphite.

Last night I feared I had ruined the drawing when I applied the ink wash with a bold, but foolish gesture. The colour was too intense and I could do nothing to reduce it's impact. I let the picture dry to see what could be done, hoping the colour would fade. I decided to be philosophical about it, "What is done, is done." (from I, Claudius). I was curious to see what would happen if I kept working up the layers of the drawing with that mark underneath.

This morning Matt and I were sitting having our coffee, thinking and talking about family. I live with unhealed fractures from my years of motherhood, that continue to creak with twinges of guilt that I am falling short to this day - my self perceptions of my mothering, and now, add grand-mothering deficiencies. We talked about how these fractures span generations, harking back to my own experiences of deficient parenting that left me injured and unable to cope with adult life.

We talked about how the antidote to this unhelpful self-talk is an act of ferocious kindness. A kindness that is courageous, protective, defensive, and ready to stand her ground for those who cannot defend themselves. And Matt asked, "Does that ferocious kindness extend to you, too?" And I realized that my acts of ferocious kindness must not only extend outward in ripples of caring to family, friends, and strangers, but also inward, to that injured and healing self who has survived this far.

In the moment of this conversation I was looking at this self portrait, sitting out on display, and realized how important these works are, perhaps not for posterity, that is not for me to say, but for me, here, now, helping to heal these broken bones of character and confidence. I will never know the extrinsic value of this work, whether it resonates and speaks to others. I know, right now, the intrinsic value of this work, as I ponder the next layers to add.

I pick up the darkest blue pencil crayon and start adding emphasis around the eyes with a combination of implied line to indicate and edge, and scribbles to add shading. I work to remain faithful to my observations, focusing on my reference photo to help me see details I would not otherwise notice. 

I hold the pencil crayon lightly, loose in my fingers. It is like a divining rod, sliding across the paper and leaving its mark behind. I'm thinking about fungi and mycelium, the intelligence of a questing organism, whose tips search and seek at the edge of existence. The tip of the pencil touches the paper to create a kinetic bond between my life and the surface of the drawing. I exist in relation to the pencil and the marks it makes on the page. The marks give rise to an object, a subject, a sense of being, that is transported back through my senses to energize a sense of life in relation to the image emerging in the drawing. The energy moves back and forth, from the drawing, through the pencil, through my fingers, arm and shoulder, to my deepest idea of self, and then, with another gesture, flows from me back through the pencil, to leave another generative mark on the drawing. 

There is a rhythm, an intensity, a dynamic sense of movement and mark making. Each mark leaves a trace of my existence on the drawing. Each mark brings the drawing of myself to life. I'm letting the weight and intensity, the character of the line, tell me what to do. I abstain from an alien voice that is trying to tell me what I 'should' do to make this drawing (if I was a truly talented artist to be 'discovered'). Instead, I listen, intently, to what the drawing is telling me to do, the next right thing to do.

I move evenly across the surface of the drawing, and the surface of the reference photo. I observe the depth of tone, the definition of an edge, the vague shadow of wind burnt skin and the mysterious shadow of the hollow below a shelf of bone. I strive to give equal attention, and equal marks, across the subject of the portrait, no single area is favoured above any other. All these parts conspire to evoke a whole, a sense of existence in the drawing reflecting some sense of existence, in this moment, in me.

From the basement suite below me I hear the distant strumming of a guitar. I think about our creative lives and how we make meaning from the chaotic randomness of life on earth. How our creative works can inspire and guide us in the midst of catastrophic social system collapse around us.

I have worked my way through the first layer of blue. The colour is called Indigo Light. 

I start the next layer. This colour is called Intense Blue #097. It is a lighter, cooler shade of blue. I look for things I haven't noticed before. It's like re-watching a movie and picking up on new subtleties of shape, colour, texture, edge and shade. I continue to use a combination of implied line and scribble shading.

How do I know the shape of things? How do I know what I am looking at? The topography of this face, my face. The shape of character, my character, my expression. How do I recognize what I am looking at? I search for those secret signs and indicators of what lies below, beside or above. 

The second layer of blue is done. I found myself pushing in a little harder in some areas. It was like playing the bass in a band and finding myself plucking the string harder to be heard. I was pushing the blue harder because it needed a stronger presence in that particular moment of the drawing. 

I am at my third and lightest blue layer. This pencil crayon is called Cobalt Turquoise #048.

I start again at my favourite spot - the iris of my right eye, the left eye in the drawing. It is a challenge to continue drawing as the drawing takes on a life of its own. The portrait is emerging and I must face my own fear of ruining the drawing with a heavy mark. As the drawing comes to life, I fall in love with the drawing. I don't want to do anything that will hurt the drawing. But the only way for the drawing to come to life is for me to keep working with it. It is a difficult tension. I am bringing the drawing to life with the marks I am making, and with each layer and each mark, I run the risk of ruining the drawing by the marks I am making. The drawing is not done. Not done with me.

Eddy, my big, young rescue dog, is getting restless and nosing in to attract my attention, and distract me from drawing. I know that I must finish this third layer in this sitting. If I leave it undone, it will be a different iteration when I come back. Time changes everything. The absence of a mark is as revealing as the marks themselves. There is a coherence to these absences and presence arising in this moment. When I get up to walk the dogs, that flow will be changed. I must finish this layer now.

What I imagine I am looking at is not necessarily what I see. Making the drawing is a continuous process of checking my perceptions, my interpretations, and my facility with the pencil crayon. How does my perception interpret the transition of the nose in relation to the eyes, the cheeks and the mouth? How does the chin transition to the neck? What are the shapes, edges, and shadows that help me understand the topography of this face? I continue alternating between implied line and scribble shading, holding the pencil lightly, allowing for movement, uncertainty, and change.

I am done for now. I scan the drawing and set it on its stand so I can see it when I have some distance from the work. I never know what I am going to see.