Hey guys, how are you? Happy TUESDAY. Not close to Friday but it’s all good, it’s all good.
Do you follow on snap & insta? If so, you’ve seen the psycho-looking paint messes all over my apartment. The idea to start throwing paint against a piece of paper stemmed from when I was younger. I’ve never been a good sleeper, always working with a running mind, so my mom got me into play-doh. I would sit at the kitchen table for hours forming pink houses and blue cookies with her until my eyes started to slowly shut. It kept my mind occupied – completely busy. I loved the hands on aspect of it all, and then as I grew older I started baking with my mom, because I guess play-doh wasn’t cool anymore (rolling my eyes because I still love it – theraputty is like play-doh for adults, though).
From play-doh to baking to painting. All very hands on, keeping my mind off of everything else and focused on one thing. If you come to CIC to read my posts – you’ve most likely read about how BA will ask: wanna bake? on a Sunday night when the anxiety of a Monday starts to kick in.
It’s become a thing in our apartment, and I’ve got my mom to thank for that.
So, we paint now. And yes, BA sits there and paints with me when I ask because he’s that kind of man. You’d date him too.
I paint anything. Not like actual pictures or people, because that’s not my forte… at all. I mix colors, I carve blocks and throw triangles onto paper, I find new inspirations through it all. I usually have no idea what I’m going to swipe across the blank white sheet I’m starting out with, and that’s why I love it. I find new ideas through having no idea what I’m doing.
Using your hands gets messy. They can be shaky, they don’t know how to stay inside the lines most of the time, they go in the wrong direction at some points, they mess up – a lot. And that’s the thing, it’s all so organic. It’s all so real. You find so much in that, in the realness.
People want things so perfect these days, like a room designed on photoshop that fits everything to a T – every square inch just right, every candle with no space to give, every pillow aligned upright and cornered onto the couch almost making it hard to sit. I get it, I’ve been there. Interior design is simply amazing, and no one wants a shitty looking room. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely get a little frustrated when BA moves my pillows around.
But life is messy, and that’s why I continue to spill my brain onto paper – with writing and with painting. I try to see the beauty in the mess. The realness. The not-so-perfectness.
It’s almost like a mood board – but much less organized. Because at the end of the day, what does perfect really get you? Nothing close to real, and that’s where things go wrong. That’s where life starts to get hard; when you start to care too much about the perfectness of it all.
I find my most interesting ideas come to life when I’m in a mess. When things are thrown onto paper with no thought, with no care. I find myself loving harder when the mess of a real relationship is there. I find myself feeling more free when my hair is salty with sand in it and my freckles aren’t perfectly aligned on my face, but instead sprawled all over like the sun threw them at me full speed. I find myself leaning closer to people who are real, who laugh at themselves sleep-talking and spilling the wine. I find myself the happiest when I’m not looking for the perfectness.
And yes, I love white. I love color schemes. I love my apartment to be clean and free of clutter. I love a room that is neutral and eye appealing. But I love the mess that goes into that room, truly.
People wonder what I’m doing, or why I sit down to paint when I’m not an artist – and it’s simply because I like the mess, the inspiration, the ideas, the hands on, the mess again.
I take things to paper because that’s how I work, and everyone works differently. Maybe you take things to the gym (I envy you), or you do hair, or you fix cavities, or you raise kids. People are different – life is messy – and it’s all about finding that. Finding the mess in whatever it is that you do, however it is that you work. Whatever it may be that sparks your inner creativity, whatever it may be that brings the mess into your life.
It can be hard to give up the fight of finding perfection, of trying to make your life and home a real-life picture perfect canvas. It can be hard to find the mess and be okay with it – I totally understand. I used to go to work and get anxious that my apartment wasn’t vacuumed or that there was a fork in the kitchen sink still. But, over time, I have taught myself to love the realness, and I’m still learning. It’s a process – a long one at that – but one that I highly recommend to any breathing human out there.
The best part? You never, ever know what’s going to come from it.
Accepting the mess isn’t always easy – but it’s real.
P.S. – I sat on the couch next to BA last night, messed up our perfectly positioned pillows, and asked him if he wanted to catch up on America’s Got Talent episodes. We watched the one with DJ Khaled, preparing to laugh the entire time. Then, a 13-year-old beautiful soul walked onto the stage – Evie Clair. She comes on, dedicates her songs to her father who has stage 4 colon cancer, and she sings her goddamn heart out. Watching, listening, tears rolling down my face, I see the most perfect imperfection in her voice and water-filled eyes. With that being said, Evie Clair, a strong little thing, one that brings out the true realness in life, got my mind thinking about what matters and what doesn’t.
And trust me, perfect rooms and white walls mean shit.