Drawing/Dancing

It happened... I found myself in the studio before an easel and a thick pad of drawing paper. A CD was playing; the familiar sound infilling the room that is also my body-room. Brush in hand, the dance kept pulling me far from the paper. Then I'd make my way back...try to still myself long enough to apply the ink to the page. Lines formed, but they trembled a bit with the energy I had tapped into. Imperfect, they slid off the brush and filled the blank surface with a body dancing. Proportions were off and lines much less smooth than before my surgery. It has been some time since I have even thought of brush and ink drawing, and I must do my best to keep the judge at bay. As the pages fell to the floor I tried not to look. I tried to remember that this was more about dance and the release of energy. Forget the finished product. Forget...

To do this I took up a handful of conte crayons. This put my fingers closer to the paper. My whole body backed up my hand. This was closer to working with clay. The crayon snapped; my fingernails scraped the paper. My shoulder protested. Yet my energy came on fiercely, and my body was so close to what was happening that all I saw was the immediate contact of crayon with paper. The dance of the limited body was escaping its boundaries.

Yet now as I look at this photo of the evidence of Friday's release, she still seems confined by the paper. Or... Maybe not...