sitting on a large rock in the middle of an empty lot
three years old, feet resting on a small ledge in the front of the rock, knees up, a notebook propped on top
pen in hand, I made waves of "writing" across the page, line after line, page after page
I've never stopped
lately I've been reading "The Way of the Fearless Writer" by Beth Kempton
trying my best to follow all of the writing prompts
I have learned over the past couple of years that the path to mastery comes from doing, not reading, so even though at first some of the prompts seem uninteresting to me, I do them anyway
and thank goodness for that
the latest one went something like this:
on a piece of paper, write about an experience that was very hard for you
put the paper in a heat-proof container
burn it to ashes
add a few drops of water and stir
paint or draw a symbol of sorts on the page
write about the experience over top
sigh
not a fan of that kind of writing - I do enough thinking about difficult things I rarely need to write about them to gain clarity and perspective... I usually either have it in short order or decide it really isn't worth the bother and just move on
so after a bit of dragging my feet (or my hand, as it were) I gave in and wrote about the day many years ago when we left the Yukon to move to BC
it was a small piece of drawing paper, about 3" x 4 1/2"
black ink in my fountain pen, I filled both sides, first horizontally, then vertically
into an old canning jar, lit it on fire
the flame took hold and licked up the paper, edges blackening and curling... I watched it with interest
two small pieces didn't quite burn up but I left them in the jar, let it cool, added water, and stirred
rather than draw a symbol I did a light wash of the ash "ink" over the whole of the page... like the grey fog that filled my heart that day long ago
then, on an impulse, I splattered some ash-ink on the paper... droplets here and there, like tears
the symbolism of that captivated me and I was off, writing forgotten... I rushed to get out more of the drawing paper (a beautiful Hahnemühle drawing paper) and found myself splattering the ash ink on both sides of 8 or 9 sheets of it before I ran out
some of the drops have an almost metallic sheen to them that the camera doesn't pick up
the colour of them ranges from a very light beige to a darker grey - the ash didn't really mix all that well, or perhaps I was too impatient
I splattered and over-splattered
the plan now is to make a book with these papers, one I can take to the Yukon on my next trip and draw and write in whilst there
for the cover I'll use one the "sidewalk" linen pieces I painted with earth pigment paint
it's a perfect colour match for the ash ink and is a nod to the wooden sidewalks of my childhood
pages that are already marked with meaning feels like a wonderful way to eliminate blank-page syndrome and imbue the book with love and longing before the very first word is written
even if I am the only person that knows it
the surprise was that one of the pieces of paper that did not completely burn before the flame died looks very much like the shape of the Yukon Territory
how perfect is that?
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
