R E I K E N

23 April 2020 | On seeing. And listening. But truly seeing and truly listening.

Yesterday morning was a relaxed one. Outside, a storm raged, and it was brisk—by Portuguese standards. Inside the camper, it was cosy. M was working on his book, and Lola lay stretched out, snoring contentedly, a happy dog.

I looked at M’s drawing, which had been hanging on the cabinet for months. It was created in December, in Altea’s old town, at a beautiful restaurant under a large tree, waiting for the tapas we ordered. The fresh sangria was already on the table.

Earlier, we had visited an art supply store—a lovely little paradise. We had bought beautiful paper and Ecoline markers. Naturally, they had to be tried out immediately. M made this lovely piece right there. Simple, clear. I love his scribbly lines and playful handwriting. I’m always surprised at how we are both looking at the same subject, but create two totally different drawings. Composition, colour, contrast, line, form… there are endless ways to portray something.

Using M’s drawing as inspiration, I started a watercolour, trying to stay as close to his original as possible. If I tried really hard, I might manage an exact replica, but of course, that didn’t happen. I had different materials, a slightly different paper size, and my own style, which is distinctly not M’s. And, honestly, I’m far too stubborn to make an exact copy 😉

Truly seeing is like truly listening, I realized. It’s hard to avoid letting your own perspective or interpretation colour what you see or hear. It’s practically impossible, and often unnecessary. But it is a skill to play with and practice consciously from time to time.

What is the other person truly saying, or drawing? Do I just assume I understand, or do I check? Can I set aside my own feelings, expectations, or desires to fully be with what the other person is saying? Often, I realize only afterwards that I haven’t fully listened, especially when arguments arise. I focus on how unfair it is, how misunderstood I feel, and end up defending my own views. My lines. My colours. Why aren’t they good enough? Why are yours different?!

In retrospect, I always think: next time, I’ll truly listen. Set my emotions aside. Ha! Much like letting go of my own style in drawing, it’s difficult. But when it works—when I truly see how the other person draws a line, paying close attention—it’s so inspiring. A new world. New possibilities. When I truly listen to M and see things from his perspective, I always feel enriched. Oh, right… it can be that way too. Such relief.

Perhaps I can only truly listen to or look at someone else if I’m able to first listen to and look at myself. I recognize M’s irregular lines because mine are straight. I see his clear colours because mine are muted.

Starting this journey, I knew I would encounter a lot. I didn’t know it would also be such an intense journey within myself. But it’s beautiful. And art helps me to get a grip on what is happening. It truly is a Life Art Trip. Onwards.