Trace

Amy (U.K.)

[reflection]

My metaphor about my writing process:
When I am writing at my best, I am a windsurfer or sailor. Often I bob along in the water with my gear, surveying my surroundings, waiting for the right wind to come and pick me up. I am patient and know where to look for wind of the right strength. And when that wind of inspiration comes, I come alive and race to tack, driving my course and accelerating quickly, skimming over the tops of the waves as if they were not obstacles at all. At top speed, I am grace and lightness and joy.
The shadow side is that I am often considering how I may look from the shore. Will others criticise my technique? Or maybe it’s more the self-critique of knowing I became timid and didn’t attempt any tricks at the tops of the waves when I could have. As a sailor, I know worrying is useless, people are just admiring the sails after all. And if I fail, I will simply plop into the water, revert my boat/board to the right position (I’ve trained for this!), and try once more.

Another metaphor that I have been sitting with and tracing this week is the shell, or more generally a spiral. I am currently making an artwork with glass in the form of a nautilus shell, and I’ve been reflecting on why I am so drawn to this shape:
My habits run away and return to me in circles, swirling a tea as I prepare to write, twisting my hair at the nape of my neck, wrapping and rewrapping my pink desk ribbon as I ponder. The spiral of the self, upwards away from doubt, downwards deeper into my voice with greater nerve.
My art often returns to this idea of a shell or a spiral. The cycle, the vortex, the natural pattern. The artist within me is delicate like a snail, wearing an armour that is tougher than anything. Never will she be separated from a sense of belonging by carrying her home and source of strength on her back.