I've been seeing a lot of my feet lately. It started actually with rendering out my thesis. As anyone who operates Maya know, rendering can be a time consuming process which still requires the attention of the user as many things can (and do) go wrong. Anyway, with nothing to do in those minutes that the animation rendered peacefully, I sketched the closest, most accessible subject: my feet.
Following the end of classes, I re-injured my knee. I first dislocated my knee when I was thirteen. It's an athletic injury most often associated with women because our body shape slightly pulls the knee out. I used to do ballet, which helped strengthen the muscles around my patella; but when I stopped, a slip, trip and fall landed me in a cast and on crutches for a month and physical therapy for a month after. It really sucked having that childhood delusion of invincibility, shattered.
Anyway that's not what this post is about. What it's really about is what I'm doing in this time. Waiting a month for my insurance to reactivate, I've whipped out the old knee-brace and am staying in bed with my legs elevated unless I absolutely, absolutely have to leave my apartment. No parties, no bar hopping, no aimlessly wandering the streets of Manhattan. Nothing.
Nothing but my laptop. And it occurred to me.
While my legs were one main form of freedom, they could sometimes be a hindrance. I like movement, I like to be in movement, to observe movement, to create movement. So, does the inability to go three billion places in one day bug me out? You bet. But all that pent up energy always gets expressed in some other way: by moving other things from the comfort of my bed.
When I lost the ability to dance (or rather became too afraid to) I found solace, freedom, in another medium of movement.
(Procedurally Textured and Animated, by Me, advised by David Halbstein)
I acredit my pre school teachers, mostly. Who distracted me from my separation anxiety with large sheets of paper and my own set of paints. We are patterns occuring and re-occuring. It's almost scary.
We can train and train but at the end of the day, we always revert to instincts in the moments we are most stressed, distressed and pressed for time.
So while I can't really do this in real life:
(Mmm, yummy apple that will kill me if I eat it. Seriously, I'm allergic.)
Freedom exists in the fact that at least, I can pretend to.
(Modeled, Procedurally Textured and Animated by ME, as advised by David Halbstein)