This morning I woke up with an image that would not go away, a woman sitting with her hands folded on a desk in a dark room, with one window giving a streak of light, but her face was completely washed over without features.
It kept coming back to me and I thought when I get to the studio I need to do a quick sketch.
I went about the morning chores, took a ride on Boone and the image kept coming back to me so it must be important, or perhaps it is someone trying to tell me something. I suppose we could all play psychologist on this. At first I thought it was me, the one who identifies herself with this place and time, fading out.
Then I wondered if it has to do with me feeling invisible to certain people, especially after a recent business encounter where I voiced my opinion and frustration with the other person's lack of communication– that lacking led to misunderstandings and complications for me. But after I voiced that opinion, I sensed a lack of respect from the other party, and their apology felt hollow to me.
I think even when you are not afraid to voice an opinion as a woman, especially in uncomfortable situations, we are prone to feel shame, still in this day and age. Hillary Clinton is accused of 'shouting', Bernie Sanders is not. Seems kind of backwards to me.
Anyway, I felt compelled to sketch it. Maybe it will return tonight or when I wake up tomorrow.
