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Instagram - @griefgirlsgonewild

I have tried for years to have a more stable drawing practice. I’ve always been desperately eager, carrying a notebook with me everywhere, yet I consistently found myself stuck in fits and starts. It was hard for me to understand how it could be so difficult - drawing is my happy place, why wouldn’t I want to go to there? To live there? It’s taken me three decades and a global pandemic to realize that I chase anxiety. That is my brain’s “familiar place.” Restricting myself from doing what I love is my brain’s way of making sure I am on familiar ground.

Working on some new arrangements 🌸🎄🌺 I’m such a sucker for mini twinkle lights 😋✨✨

This lightbox is called “It Us.” It’s 5.25” x 7” x 2.5”, contains 10 layers of hand cut paper and 5 different colored LED lights. I made this box for a very dear friend, and then I broke their heart before I could give it to them. It’s taken me a long time to understand that art in itself doesn’t heal. Though making it, to me, has always felt like the physical act of spiritual repair. Receiving it, putting oneself at the mercy of someone else’s art, someone else’s heart - that requires something more delicate, that requires trust and mutual understanding and permission. I’m historically terrible at boundaries - a lifelong amateur at the friendship arts, like an ass in a pottery shop. But I’m keen to practice hard, do the work, and I won’t give up till I rip. So here I am, just a sad art girl on instagram, learning how to ask for permission to rip your heart.

© 2021 Sofia Bell

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