Drawing something for the other is to allow them to exist in us
as we, for a moment, mesh in the depths of our silence.
Your physical presence affects me. My senses, my body are impacted by it. I feel engaged. How should I respond?
When I talk to you via a screen, I am communicating with a machine, not a person. My fingers tap at the keyboard, my gaze rests on a flat surface – a rectangular, luminous object. My senses no longer function as intended – so they keep track of nothing. Following captive movements on a screen is exhausting.
The only communication is verbal. Spoken in an altered, impoverished voice, words become hollow, dead, vibrationless. Interspersed by silences we can no longer interpret.
Remind yourself of the drawings you made for your parents when you were young. The letters you composed for your lovers, your friends, when, draped in your solitude, you sat writing – endless time spent with the other.
These moments were devoted to revealing something of yourself to the other. This other, who nurtured in you the courage to express yourself, encouraged you to acknowledge this abstract and fragile phenomenon that is the relationship. As a result, the bond between you took on colours, shapes. It acquired meaning within the lines you penned. It became precious.
In these times of imposed separation, we seek to give substance to our relationships. What can we do to offer a little of ourselves to those we hold dear?
Drawing something for the other is to allow them to exist in us as we, for a moment, mesh in the depths of our silence.
A drawing for the other reveals where our heart lies. So yes, let us draw, let us write, let us spark our creativity for those we love and, in so doing, offer them a taste of our presence!
Then the silences will be understood, the words will reveal in their new-found depth and dignity. We will have injected some consistency and intimacy into the heart of our exchanges.
Text by Isabelle Roch, Art Therapist, Gstaad