Walled Garden

3 Mar

I was talking to my mother via email the other day about the difficulties of living in a small town and frequently running into people one was acquainted with but did not want to engage with. She told me I should think of myself as being inside my walled garden; just because they talk to me doesn’t mean I have to talk to them, they are talking but it’s not to me.

I liked this. I can see using this as a kind of mantra so I don’t get so stressed out every time I go out in public. It’s helpful.

Then I tried to draw the walled garden. I tried three times and below is the third effort. 

Sometimes when I try to draw an idea and try to include things I think should be in there, the drawing just fails. Thus does drawing speak to and teach me.

Every time I tried to draw the walled garden, the common factors were the chair and the near-dead tree. The bird came into the last one, this one, because it makes me feel more comfortable to draw weird bird caricatures on my drawings for some reason.

As is often the case, when I actually try to draw an idea, it comes out telling me something I didn’t expect. I guess it’s a form of talking to myself in a different language.

walled garden

What this drawing tells me is that the walled garden is a pretty small place, there is not much it, but it might be a place for rebirth. But even the sprouting dead tree and the bird look so sad. And the chair is empty. But it’s growing roots. 

I thought after I drew this version that maybe the chair should be sprouting, not the tree. Maybe I’ll do it that way if I draw this again.

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