I was sitting in bed this morning, trying to enforce my resolution of "waking up slowly," instead of bounding up out of bed at first light to work in the studio, make coffee, mop floors or whatever else is calling my reveille at 5:30 a.m.
I've been working on exercising my manual dexterity by hand-sewing felt pieces and making candle mats, and the numbness that invades my hands is slowly improving. I can do that easily while "waking up" and it allows me to think about my upcoming day and the tasks at hand. The repetitive sewing also invites introspection and memories, both of which are currently occupying 80-percent of my brain waves of late.
I got to thinking about the felt pieces and how I always choose non-uniform shapes and colors to work with. As a mosaic artist, nothing I do has a specific pattern to it, and everything that I create has a delightful randomness to it. I suppose that is one of the reasons I like driftwood and bits of sea-glass – the shapes and colorations are different in each one.
However, there are some folk that have to have a specific pattern in things – art, writing and life in general – in order to feel comfortable in their skin. Stripes must go a certain way, in a precise way and in no more than three colors. Canisters on the counter must have the words "Flour," "Sugar" and "Tea" facing outward, books must be lined up according to height and there is no such thing as a "junk drawer," because everything, including the screws, twist-ties and batteries that one acquires over a period of months, has a neatly organized tray they live in.
My mother was a pattern person. Very tidy, very neat and for the most part, not very random in her thoughts or actions. I suppose the upside of her need for the comfort of specifics was that she was always dependable and quite predictable. My father was the same way, Next question in your mind was if they got along. Not really. But, it was the Age of Faithfulness and marriage was something you did not just throw away come the first disagreement. Not sure whether pattern and random came into play.
I dated a man once who ate the same cereal, every single morning, at the same time, out of the same cereal bowl. He never deviated from that pattern. It gave him a sense of order in his life that he absolutely had to have. He used the same brand of pen, drove the same route to work and called me at the exact time every day. At first, it was a pretty fascinating movie to watch, but once I noticed those patterns, I started to become irritable and all I could think of was stealing his cereal bowl and watching him spin out of control. I started to look for ways to completely shake up his orderly world and that, of course, was something he could not have happen. Needless to say, our relationship unraveled in about three months, and this butterfly flew off for different flowers, and in doing so, messed up his patterns for a little while, but he soon recovered. Last I heard, he had married a very patterned individual who only ate spaghetti on Sundays. Perfect match.
I think that Random and Pattern can work together quite well, if both understand each other's needs for being one way or the other, and learn to live and let live. Diversity is not just a word that should be equated with mental, physical or racial balance. Each of us is unique and each of us brings something different to the mix of friendship, love and workplace.
My life, art and thoughts will probably continue to be random. Crazy, free-spirited and unique. I'm envious of The Patterned People, because I would love to have more order in my life, but I have tried so many times to Be That Way and just cannot. But, I do understand them. I hope they can understand me.
No comments:
Post a Comment