When I make Curve Art, I enter into a creative process where I encounter the principles of curvature; I experience the nonlinear flows, patterns, and principles of organization that bring form into being. The patterns and principles of curve making have become instructions for life and my understanding of living form.
I was 3 when I began drawing circles on the walls. I drew them mostly in the corners of the house. I was very quiet about it. I started in the living room, when no one was watching, and then expanded into the family room and dining room. As my parents caught on (and did not become fans of their circled corners), I retreated to places that were a little more discrete, like in the corners of my bedroom and closet. I did this for about a year. I have no memory as to why I was doing this. I never gave an explanation back then. But I like to think I was trying to heal the corners. I was trying to fill those awful right-angles with little curvatures. Mostly, I think I was following some instinct inside of me that just liked the feeling of it, of making circles. I still like it. And I am proud to say at some point I risked coming out of the closet and baring my circles again. I am no longer a closet circle drawer. I brought them back into the living rooms, into the family rooms, into the corners that yearn for them, into my world that is thirsty again. I am replenishing my world curvaceously. I cannot tell you how much joy this brings me. I cannot tell you how long my soul has been wanting for this. I do not even know.
Creativity is not a Hobby
Creativity is the foundation of my medical knowledge. The lessons from metaphor and art-making are not “extra-curriculars” in life. Creativity is not a hobby. The lessons derived from creative acts are essential and exacting lessons on life, on the principles of organization of life or how life comes into form and maintains itself in relation to all else. Creativity is not a hobby.
Speak the poetry of your genes -
The intelligence of your being.
The intelligence of your being
Metaphors are the equations of the soul, child,
We are artists.
How do you bring your love into form?
You must speak the poetry
of your genes.
Come, my child, all forms begin as a curve. You began as a curve. The Great Spirit touched to the ethers and set a wave in motion; this wave coiled and bent, arched and folded, broke symmetry again and again, until a unique curvature of space and time emerged and became you. No two waves are exactly the same. So you became a unique curvature of space and time. The curve never leaves the thing it becomes. You are always to express it. Your curve is your Original Name. Your true name. When you listen carefully, when the wind blows, you will hear your name called. And when the waves rise onto shore, you will hear your name called. And when you listen deep into your soul, you will hear your name called. Lean into it. Bend into it. Follow it home.
My soul cries such a deep cry to be heard in this. I have cut my curves to fit the frame. I have lied on the nails of institutional education and I have bled from my cervix. I did not create my wounds to not have them healed. I did these things because I had to. Or thought I did. Because I did not have the courage to be heard without the titles. Because I was told I would not have the courage to be heard without the titles. That’s the truth that comes from a much older wound, an inherited wound: external validation is necessary, especially when it substantiates you with lasting letters beside your name. Especially if you are a woman. Especially if you are not white. Ok. Am I done now? Do I have enough letters, words, and names? Now, how do I find the courage to speak of the things that really matter? Can I reclaim my Original Curve? Can I remember the true letters and words and names of my being? The ones that are most necessary to speak for my cervix to heal?