Art Star

So, tomorrow I have another appointment with my psychiatrist.

Since our first appointment back in September, she has been asking me to “Write a Story”.

The appointment always goes like this ever since: I come in, she asks me how I’ve been feeling, I always say “okay”, taking it as a formality.

Then she asks me if Sertraline has been giving me any problems at all, I say it hasn’t, except for the occasional trembling of my hands. Nothing big anyways.

Then, Silence. Then some staring.

She lowers her gaze and writes something on the chart. Probably something standard, just to record there has been an appointment at all.

Then she asks me if I’ve done “my homework”.

I say I don’t know what to write about. I ask her about the purpose of the story, since everytime I try to write something I stop because my mind starts wandering about what could she possibly get out of it, and how could I transmit something through the things that I write.

She says I only have to “Write a Story”.

I say I feel unable to just write “Once upon a time, there was a little pig, and it fell on the mud.”

I feel a lot of pressure. I feel there are so many things I want to express.

I wish I were an artist. To me, an artist is that person who has the ability to turn all the floating data on their minds that makes no sense, and give it shape, even if nobody understands but you. But it’s also much better if the shape you made of your feelings and thoughs makes everyone SEE what you’re feeling and thinking.

Whether it’s through a drawing, a song, a book, a photo, or any other media, it doesn’t matter.

For example, people who just make pretty paintings are not artists to me. They are decorators. I am a good decorator. I can use charcoal pencils, acrylic paints, oil paints, and even photoshop to create some things that look awesome.

I usually destroy them.

They are disconected to anything I’m feeling. I’m not an artist.

It’s a great frustration. It’s not the technique; anyone can learn a technique if they take the time to do so.

It’s not the language. This part it’s a little weird in my case. Although it’s my mother tongue, it is much harder for me to write in Spanish than it is in English. I’m not sure why this happens. I might know more about Spanish, and I’m probably better at it. But English, good or bad, it’s the language of my mind, and it has been for a while.It’s something else…

I need a thoughts translator.


4 thoughts on “Art Star

  1. writing a story is hard to me too. i would have all these thoughts but trying to put them into words is hard for me. that is where art comes in really handy for me.

    a thought translator would be good, but where do you find one??? that is the question. i hope the appointment went ok …

  2. I wish I were an artist. To me, an artist is that person who has the ability to turn all the floating data on their minds that makes no sense, and give it shape, even if nobody understands but you. But it’s also much better if the shape you made of your feelings and thoughts makes everyone SEE what you’re feeling and thinking.

    I often don’t think the later is really possible. But it’s the strive to try that makes art amazing. I love art that makes me think about things, and creates a reaction in me, whether or not that is the intended feeling (or internal feeling) of the artist seems irrelevant. Selfish maybe, but I think it’s the only way it can work. You can study and analyse and see how something does something, but not why…the why is in you, the reader/listener/devourer or whatever you are.

    My point being, that you strive to communicate, and you do so artfully. You’ve initiated all these thoughts in me, just by eloquently positing your own view on something. I am reacting to an interpreation of that big mass of thoughts and jumble in your head.

    I engage with your presentation, but really I just have my interpretation of your presentation. Mediation all the way.

    But that’s fine, because it’s still contact. It’s still real, and it’s still important.

    My art? Mostly rubbish, sometimes pretty, and totally impossible for other people to see without me explaining. At least that’s how I see it. And my explanations don’t work. I like to collaborate with my own brain. I don’t think other people can get the same thing out of stuff I’ve created as I can. But that’s only the non-verbal arts. Words, are different. I find it hard to feel like they are art in the same way. Words are my breath.

    But then, if I performed my words, they would be different. I expect a lot of them wouldn’t be words. Music in language. Tricky, and beyond me. But miraculous. I like the sounds my mouth can make, and I like the shapes my hand can construct. It’s all shapes, movement. It’s all art.

    I think I’ve lost myself in this comment.

    Anyway, I precisely avoid counselling/psychiatry or whatever entirely because I know I’ll end up trying to analyse how I’m appearing in order to appear sane, and that’ll make me more paranoid and weird.

    If you’re supposed to write a story. I wouldn’t worry about it being ‘good’/’bad’ or saying something about you. Maybe it should just be about a pig. Maybe it shouldn’t.

    I have a feeling I’d avoid it, even though I love stories.


    I’m baffling myself.
    I am in bafflement.
    I am in the baffle.
    Bafflements on castles,
    Battling Cattle.

  3. She says I only have to “Write a Story”.

    Your frustration with your psychologist’s vague command is very understandable. It is a retarded and for the most part useless hybrid example of the psychological techniques of free association and stream of consciousness gone wrong. I call it ‘retarded’ and ‘useless’ because I believe understanding the human mind is a byproduct of three order reliant things: specificity, context and keen analysis.

    There is no room for vagueness. If you have been seeing your psychologist for a while and talking randomly with her, then as a professional she has to have built a decent idea of what she understands about you and what needs further clarification. Asking you something so vague is an indication that she is still in the dark about you at best and is of weak motivation to help you and/or is of average intellect at worst.

    Most people expect psychologists to possess a more comprehensive understanding of the human condition than the average person. Unfortunately, this is not necessarily the case. Their studies have bestowed upon observational knowledge but that is not the same as understanding.

    Observational knowledge requires the ability to pin point a discrepancy based on a list of ‘symptoms’ and then provide a treatment. But, understanding is about going deeper than that and demands well developed improvisational skills, creativity, tenacity, and commitment. The average human lacks these things and a psychologist even with their added knowledge is still as averagely human in these traits as most of the population.

    I say I feel unable to just write “Once upon a time, there was a little pig, and it fell on the mud.”

    I find the irony of you saying this to your psychologist to be extremely amusing.

    You see, it is an example of free association and stream of consciousness done correctly. It is so simple and yet so revealing. It is a condense revelation of your general attitude and perceptions about your life.

    The little pig fell in the mud. Whether through outside forces or unsteady step it became ‘dirty.’ There is a certain level of humiliation/shame to it. It cannot be easily undone. The ‘little pig’ probably won’t know how to restore itself to its previous state and will need outside intervention. There is a sense of hopelessness and vulnerability to the situation and the perception that its initial ‘mistake’ and ‘condition’ is obvious to any passerby.

    As a means of comparison, I experimented with this by asking someone I know, “Complete this sentence: Once upon a time there was a little pig . . .” and their response was “and it was taken and put in a pen.” A pen’s purpose is to trap those inside and I know for a fact that the person I asked has a general feeling of being ‘trapped’ and/or ‘caged’ by the circumstances in their life.

    It is interesting how the general way we view our world affects even the smallest of things we do or say.

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