Yes, something so cracked can survive. I know that now.
Dearest Doodle Soupsters,
“Can't see me, see me?” is the title of my artwork above.
Fingerprints, ghosts, floating eyes, floating feet, floating heads — there is a rootlessness, a disconnection, a severing of the psyche reflected in this piece that I completed 10 years ago.
Back in 2012 and 2013 when I was working on this artwork, and for years afterward, I couldn't come up with the right title for it. I simply couldn’t name it.
At one point, I called it, “Interconnected.” At another point, “Complicated.” But neither of these titles really felt right. And that’s because while this piece was such a pure, authentic expression of how I felt, I hadn’t yet named those feelings.
With art, I can create visual depictions of what I don’t yet have words for. Yet, finding the words? To me, that’s a crucial part of my process as an artist too.
Naming is a vital part of healing. Moving between wordlessness and putting it into words and into clarity and then into wordlessness again and repeat. This is how we process. This is how we make sense of ourselves, of living, of our experiences, of the world around us.
My art has plenty of light and plenty of darkness. I can embrace that now. Yet, back when I made this artwork, I was proud of it and also confused by it. I couldn’t even acknowledge how confused by it I truly was because then I would be facing the darkness that I didn't have the space or support to process at the time.
And still, all of it, all of the words, they’re right there in this painting in wordless form.
A few years ago, I wrote a song called “see me” — the lyrics are below:
Have you ever stared into broken glass
then saw yourself, saw more of yourself
in the discarded than in the mirror?
Shattered? Not a name I’d ever go by,
but I can’t deny how much this bottle
thrown on the side of the street looks like me.
Can’t see me, can’t see me.
Why can’t I see me? Why can’t I see me?
Have you ever stared into a brick wall
then saw yourself, saw more of yourself
in the wall than in the mirror?
Motionless? Not a name I’d call myself,
but my reflections all look like somebody else.
How can it be? This brick wall looks just like me.
Why can’t I see me? Why can’t I see me?
Frozen in place for now,
I wonder when these cracks will bring
the whole thing down.
Will I strong enough
to hold myself up
when my last wall comes
tumbling down?
Can something so cracked ever survive?
All these questions on my mind,
making it so hard to see me.
Can’t see me, can’t even see me.
Why can’t I see me? Why can’t I see me?
Yes, something so cracked can survive. I know that now.
Yes, I am strong enough to hold myself up when I let my walls down.
I know who I am.
I can see me.
And I understand why I couldn’t see myself for so long.
I face the darkness. I name and untangle the contortions of my mental pathways, created to cope with and survive abuse.
I return to my inner light and I know how to reignite it — I listen to my desires, I listen to my soul, I listen to the wind, I surrender to my grief, I nourish my body, I rest, I make space for messiness and mistakes, I remind myself that perfection isn’t my goal, I remember my story and my truth … I find compassion for myself when rigidity, fear, and doubt resurfaces … I face myself and sing:
I see me
I see me
I am cracked, not broken
I am whole
I am enough
My wounded places become points of connection
To the sacred, to the true, to our shared humanity
I see me
I see me
I see you
Beautiful and strong
Just like this
It’s safe to fall
You’ll rise again
You always do
You, sweet soul, look like you
Always did, always do, always will
What’s lost isn’t gone
What’s lost can be found again
With trust,
Nicole Sylvia Javorsky
P.S. Music Corner Related music for today’s bowl of Chicken Doodle Soup … listen to my song “see me” from my EP, a little rain!