Graphite, watercolour, pencil & pen on paper.
54.5 cmW x 37 cmH (Framed 67.7 cmW x 50.2 cmH)
When my marriage first ended I was at uni studying a bachelor degree in Psychotherapy. My mum was also very ill to the point where we thought we might loose her and doctors couldn’t find what was wrong (spoiler, they found out and she has made a full recovery). Naturally, at the time I wholeheartedly believed that I would be able to stick to my studies amongst all this if I was just smart about it (spoiler, I dropped out of uni half way through the trimester). I took some initiative and visited the student counsellor to discuss my options and how to manage workload. She agreed to see me weekly as a therapist, not just a school counsellor.
I vividly remember a session with her where I explained how I felt about where I was in my life. I had this physical sensation in my chest of a void, a pool of nothingness that was deep and endless. I was always looking into this void, leaning over trying to see if anything was there. I felt it pulling me in and I wanted to jump, the way that you feel when you look over the edge of a cliff. Looking in, I felt fear, anxiety and that pull of self preservation telling me to step away but I knew beyond doubt that I was meant to jump. There was something in there which I was longing for despite the fear of falling into nothingness.
That void had been there my whole life, calling me but I had skirted around it. There was always something at surface level to distract me from it. Now, with everything stripped away there was nothing left but to step towards that void. As I sat in the counsellor’s room, I could feel myself peering over that precipice while my feet remained frozen like stone, my body holding me back from taking that leap.
Drama aside, over the coming years I took a slow, careful climb into the unknown rather than a leap and it has been everything that I yearned for. It is the unknown that sparks joy, excitement and meaning in life but I often convince myself that I am quite content to watch from a far. “Fear” shows me in that therapist’s office, feet rooted to the ground and unable to do anything but peer into that void longingly. Maybe watching is enough, maybe it isn’t. The choice to leap is a personal one and there has to be acceptance in knowing there is no right or wrong. Once you make the choice, there is only reality.
If you are interested in giving “Fear” a space in your world, please contact Platform Gallery directly.
Accept/Resist 11th-28th October
Platform Gallery
194 Katoomba St, Katoomba, NSW 2780
Ph: 02 4742 0047
E: hello@platformgallery.co
W: www.platformgallery.co