"Creativity Takes Courage" Henri Matisse
TAROT: 3 of Knives / LENORMAND: Coffin, Ship, Fish / ADINKRA: Akoma Ntoaso
Since there is no hush money/election interference trial to keep track of today, I had thought that I would spend my Wednesday writing first, and then delving into a beginning drawing class I purchased. The prospect of passing a day steeped in creativity was enough to have me bounding out of bed this morning. As the hours have progressed, though, I have found my enthusiasm waning. Not for the writing part, of course; that feels as easy and effortless as breathing. It’s the drawing part that’s got me hung up. Today’s cards will not allow me to obfuscate or distract myself away from this. Rather, they have addressed the issue head on as the thing I ought to write about today. Maybe what the cards have to say will help more than just me with finding the courage to splash in creative waters that have seemed were too deep for splashing and just the right depth for drowning. Maybe splashing and drowning need not be the only two alternatives. Perhaps floating will fit. Let’s see:
Today’s Tarot card, from my new favorite deck of late, Nyasha Williams’ Black Tarot, is the 3 of Knives (Swords.) The Rider-Waite Smith version makes no bones about the fact that this is a card of pain, either real or imagined. Could it possibly be any clearer?
The Black Tarot version of the card took me aback, because there seemed to be not a single thing about it that felt like pain: A cornrowed woman sits in front of a window, knitting. She appears to be (bra-lessly comfortable) in a white top and what in the olden days might have been called an “ample” skirt. A skein of wool lies between her bare feet, and her red knitting seems to fit comfortably in her hands. As a veteran knitter myself, this image immediately conveys nothing but ease. And yet, this card is indeed the 3 of Knives. How so?
Williams describes that the knitter is healing pain and loss through this creative act. I am reminded of Shakespeare’s description of sleep as a state which “knits up the ravel’d sleeve of care.” What might this sorrow be about?
For me, it is around the making of art. When I was in the fourth grade, I had an art teacher who was elegant and foreign and formidable. Also, she was cruel. Every mark I attempted to make, whether with paint brush or pencil, was met with derision and what actually felt like disgust. I was the only Black girl in the class, and the first in the school’s history. There were many adults there who met my presence with disapproval. Normally, I could shrug that off, but the art arena and my tentative relationship to it made me vulnerable prey. There are some things that come native to me, like writing and yes, even knitting, which is a craft I taught myself. Other things, like math and drawing and hearing with my deaf right ear feel simply impossible.
With math, I did well enough to get into Harvard, but when I took my math midterm exam at that same institution, having toiled daily and on weekends with a kind and patient tutor, I sat in a huge lecture hall and stared at the test paper uncomprehendingly, until fat tears plopped from my eyes. Later, I got a call from the math department head. I was told that, in the history of the department, they had never had a student work so hard for so little return. They said that they had decided to give me a passing grade, so long as I agreed to never take another math class during my Harvard career. I was over the moon with gratitude, even as I realized that becoming a doctor was a door now effectively closed to me. I can do enough math to get along in daily life, but that is about my limit. I have accepted that, and feel no shame around it.
Hearing with my right ear is an impossibility, as I had a staph infection as an infant that scarred the eardrum and destroyed the nerves and all the little bones (hammer, anvil, stirrup) that make hearing possible. I have a good workaround for that, too, because I am a terrific lipreader, and make sure, to the extent possible, to have people on my left side rather than my right. I take pride in how I have navigated that disability.
Everybody’s got multiple somethings, right? The drawing thing still had me feeling that 3 of Knives kind of pain as sharply as I felt it in the 4th grade. Probably because the humiliation was so public and in a space where I was new and trying hard to make a good impression. I have never even tried to draw since that incident. But this card shows someone doing more than accepting and enduring. They are “knitting up the sleeve of care.” repairing their wound, actually making art, even, from the experience. Hmmmm.
Lenormand adds her voice with Coffin, Ship, Fish. I like these cards for this question. I have allowed myself to stay in an art-less box (Coffin) for a decade past a half century. The cards suggest that it is time to move from that box (Ship) and see what kind of emotional depth (Fish) I might discover if I allow my hand to take up a pencil in an art-seeking way. If I can knit, it is only someone else’s story that keeps me from making art in other ways. Other people’s stories about us only become ours if we allow it. I don’t want to allow this particular story in my anthology any longer.
Adinkra rounds out the message with the symbol for Akoma Ntoaso, which refers to partnership, trust, agreement. I intend, this afternoon, to partner with my 4th grade self to make a new art story. Matisse tells us that creativity requires courage. In this case, that is true. Wish me luck. Perhaps one day I will show you something I will have drawn. Not today, though. Lol. It will be all I can do to look with clear and loving eyes at what I create myself!
If there are ways in which you would like to spread your own creative wings, I would love to hear how you did, or do, or plan to do that. Creativity is our birthright. Let us all claim it.
Amen and Ase
While reading, I caught myself saying “aaww” many times with all the sad feels for you. And for all of us who were not supported. At age 5, my great-grandmother said something that affected me ( and still does at times) until I had a memory of that at 54!
As I was growing up, my Mom tried to get me into dance, as she was a beautiful dancer in Santa Barbara during any Spanish festival that was there. I tried a Spanish dance for Girl Scouts, and flopped. I saw the disappointment in her eyes. My grandmother was a fantastic talented knitter. She tried but I saw the disappointment in her eyes too.
I did “ok” in most things, but never excelled.
I was 49 when I finally figured out what I wanted to do when “grew up”! It’s been 23 years now and I’m really good at what I do. It keeps me excited and I love learning more!
I’m glad I kept on trying things, and dipped my toes into a lot of experiences. I tried Advertising Art in College. But couldn’t draw to save my life! Next!
I applaud you for moving on and allowing the younger you to play! Finally I’ll add this. The way you read Lenormand is AMAZING! I know you worked at it - a lot! But pat yourself on the back for this success. You inspire me!
I feel the same about art.