I can’t remember the last time
I took an evening class. I think it was back in the late ‘60s, when I signed up
for a typing class after I realized I’d gone all through high school without
even seeing a typewriter, and I figured if I wanted to fulfill my aspirations
to be a famous writer, it might be a good idea to learn how to type.
So
a couple weeks ago when my sister-in-law sent me an email with information
about a free class she thought I might be interested in, I was both surprised
and intrigued. I also was confused…because I had no clue what the subject of
the class – Zentangle – was.
The
name conjured up images of everything from group yoga with people twisted
together like a pile of pasta, to some type of intricate puzzle maze. So I searched for Zentangle on my computer
and discovered it’s an art form that creates beautiful images from repetitive
patterns that “flow” from the hand – no thinking, no pre-planning, no copying
an object or scene – just free-flowing drawing, one stroke at a time. This
method, it said, transports the artist into a relaxed, calming, and even a
meditative state.
Well,
after the week I’d had, with two separate trees falling on my fence, a flop on
my face while walking my dogs, and a gas leak in my kitchen, I was more than
ready for something calming and meditative. So I decided I’d give this
Zentangle thing a try.
The
class was held on a weeknight at the Hooksett Library, a building high up on a
hill I’d driven past over a zillion times. I’d never, however, actually driven
up to the library.
The
night of the class, I soon learned that trying to find the front door to the
library in the dark wasn’t as simple as it had looked from down on the main
road. The minute I turned onto the road up the hill to the building, my car
seemed to be magnetically attracted to every “wrong way” sign in the vicinity.
I think I might even have driven across someone’s lawn, but everything still
was snow-covered back then, so I can’t be sure. I finally entered the library
parking lot, but I honestly have no idea how I got there.
Once
inside the library, I found myself in the midst of a maze of rooms, doors and
staircases. I began to suspect the “tangle” in Zentangle actually applied to
finding the class.
I must
have looked as lost as I felt because two women walking by me stopped and
asked, “Are you here for the Zentangle class?”
When I nodded, they said, “Follow us!”
Had
it not been for them, I’m pretty sure I’d still be roaming around aimlessly
somewhere in the library.
I
finally made it to the class and actually found a seat at a table in the front
row.
All
I can say is it’s a good thing I did sit in front because Diane, the certified
Zentangle instructor, turned out to be very soft-spoken. At first, I thought
maybe it was just my hearing, because my ears aren’t as sharp as they used to
be, but the lady seated next to me kept leaning over and asking me, “What did
she say?”
The
poor woman was asking the wrong person. I mean, half the time, I couldn’t tell
if the instructor was talking about “stress reduction” or “dress seduction.”
Diane
explained that simple forms and shapes, such as circles, curves, straight lines
and dots, were all that were needed to create Zentangle art. Symmetry, exact
pattern duplication and ruler-straight lines were not a part of it. Everything
in Zentangle was supposed to be natural, free-handed, flowing. To demonstrate,
Diane said she was going to spend about 15 minutes drawing for us, using the
Zentangle technique. She turned on some music – a soft, pan-flute tune – then,
holding a black marker, stepped up to an easel and began to draw lines and
circles.
As
I watched her, the pattern emerging reminded me of a coloring book I’d recently
bought called, “Zendalas.” The patterns in the coloring book had confused me
because they were so uneven and asymmetrical. As I’d colored them, I’d honestly
wondered if the artist had been guzzling wine while designing them. But
suddenly, those uneven patterns were beginning to make sense to me. They must
have been done in the same free-flowing method as Zentangle. So I asked Diane
if Zentangle and Zendalas were based on the same techniques.
The
minute the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I had
disrupted the calm – interrupted the meditative state of the instructor. I had
single-handedly turned Zentangle into Zen-mangle.
Diane
crisply explained she would answer questions later because she didn’t want her
concentration or her flow to be interrupted.
I
wanted to hide under the table, I felt so embarrassed. But then, something
happened to ease my feelings of shame and guilt. Two seats down from me, a
woman’s cell phone started to ring – a peppy little tune that didn’t blend well
at all with the pan-flute music. I watched in empathy as she nervously fumbled
to open her purse and turn off the phone, her face growing redder with every
passing second. I hate to say it, but the longer it took her to silence her
phone, the less embarrassed I felt about my own mistake.
Finally,
we each were given paper tiles and black pens. Diane told us she was going to
teach us how to use the crescent-moon pattern to create our own Zentangle
design. I carefully followed each step,
hoping to make my tile a work of art worthy of being displayed in the Currier
Gallery.
 |
| DIANE, CERTIFIED ZENTANGLE INSTRUCTOR |
After
we were finished, Diane told us to share our drawings with everyone else in the
class. That’s when I noticed everyone else’s crescent moons had formed what
looked like 3-D tunnels, while mine resembled a big spider web (which made me
worry that my eyesight also was failing, right along with my hearing).
But
I did have fun in the class, so when I got home, I was eager to try what I had
learned – but on a larger scale. I grabbed a notebook and a black permanent-ink
pen, sat down on the sofa, got comfy and then started to draw, allowing my pen
to flow in circles as I relaxed and tried to achieve a meditative state.
Unfortunately,
I relaxed a little too much. When I woke up an hour later, the spot on the
paper where my pen had stopped when I dozed off had absorbed the ink and left a
huge black blob. I was pretty sure ink
blobs weren’t part of the Zentangle method.
On
the other hand, I think I might have created a new test for Rorschach.
# # #
No comments:
Post a Comment