I have been caught up in a blur of shadow and edges lately.
Everywhere I went, I saw the world as a painting on a canvas. I studied how the pavement reflected the setting sun, I studied the raindrops that splattered down from the heavens, how each brushstroke brought a fluffy white cloud to life and the sky of watercolours during sunset.
September was when school started. It also was when I decided I wanted to study art. I took classes and honed my skills each day. Soon after, I started to look at everything through the lens of an artist.
Instead of rushing each day by in a blur, I started to take in the details. If I didn’t learn anything, at least it was a wonderful way to pass the time. Everything seemed to stop for me while the rest of the world bustled pass. It was magic.
It was quite the difference compared to the past, when I tried to block out everything around me and escape. Escape from the horrible reality that was a storm of school and work.
When I told my mother about this, she waved me off. “I used to love Tetris. I played so much Tetris that anything square became a Tetris piece. Don’t worry, this phase will pass.” But I knew it wouldn’t pass, because once you notice just how detailed everything is, you cannot help but stare.
I wanted to learn more. I wanted to study more. I wanted to incorporate everything I’ve learnt into my art, but most importantly, I wanted to feel proud of my art. I wanted to succeed.
But I did not feel proud, or successful.
In fact, I felt discouraged.
When all these wonderful little details became visible, the flaws and imperfections also became obvious. I was dissatisfied at everything I did. I never felt like I was progressing fast enough or did good enough.
It was… disheartening.
On sleepless nights, I would go over all the things I had observed during the day, feel an urge to jot it all down, but I put it off until the morning.
And in the morning, I would laze around in bed; until not a single ounce of motivation was left. It was as if I had travelled back to seventh grade, back to that storm of books and work.
No matter how hard I tried to excel in school, I did not make any progress. It seemed that everybody was doing better than I was, and I would never be able to keep up.
Art should have been my escape. Should have been a pastime and an enjoyable hobby, a new skill. Instead, it turned to work.
Day by day I struggled, and all the progress I had made paled in comparison to what was left to learn.
Time was going by faster than ever, yet I was stuck in place. I was not moving at all, while everything else hurried past.
I wondered if I was ever going to be satisfied with myself. I wondered if others would see the fruits of my labour. I wondered if I was good enough.
I had tunnelled myself into a dead end. The Tetris blocks piled up, but all the blocks were wrong. Nothing fit. Everything was a jumbled mess.
This stalemate seemed to last for eons. How to break it was a mystery to me. So, like always, I went to Mother.
“Tetris blocks can go down, left, and right. But the most important part of Tetris is that the blocks can rotate. If nothing fits you, try changing your point of view. Perhaps an opportunity may open up.”
She was talking in puzzles.
“Art should not be work. You should not be trying to turn your passion and creativity into something others will enjoy. Perhaps the feeling of being accepted is sweet, but is that really success? Is that what you want your art to be? Another catalyst for ‘success’?”
Suddenly it felt as if everything was right in the world again.
“Compare your art to what it was when you first started. Ask your past self if she thought she would ever be able to draw something like this. Do not stare at the imperfections for too long. Change your perspective. Look at it as a whole. Look back at your journey and embrace it.”
As always, she was right. The Tetris block finally fell into place. All I had to do was rotate the piece.
