So above is my latest doodle with a good dose of post-doodle applied be-dazzlement…(Hey!..I’m middle aged and the nights are long ok!?)
She’s kind of Scarlett O’Hara meets Copacabana meets a milliner with a penchant for unidentified fruit-hats. What the heck IS that?..A steroid-taking pineapple seems to have made a baby with a kumquat/ pheasant in some bio hazardous corner of my imagination. Moving on now…
To doodle (to me) is a very subconscious act. No rules. no limits, no pressure.
When you were a tiny child you indeed doodled with that beautiful care-free mind-set… randomly ‘drawing a picture’ is one of our first acts of primal artistic self-expression and ‘our paper’, our cute little piece of cave wall.
Throughout my pre-historic primary school year’s (1976 – 1981), I do recall that doodling was actually encouraged in certain work-books and upon your token topical-project on cardboard. I even had one awesome teacher who would encourage doodling if we were too tired, too wired, too hot, too cold, too distracted…pretty much every other day! Loved him. He would always meticulously go through our doodles and marvel and nod, smiling at our individual uncoiled expressions, then he would hang them up with peg’s on The Doodle Line or we could put them in our doodle folder or take them home. This activity always realigned the flow, calmed fizzy minds, set us free and made the class cohesive once again. Fifteen minutes of…no rules, no limits, no pressure…it worked wonders. And here’s the thing…not one kid didn’t want to do it, or said ‘I don’t know what to draw’….ever.
Years back when phones were fat and clunky and when they rang ‘Ring Ring!’ instead of ‘My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard’….a message pad and pen would sit dutifully beside the telephone. Actual messages could be found (eventually) a-midst a plethora of hearts, skulls, butterflies, stars, flowers, stick-men. The residents of the household’s names…full names..styled everywhichway 20 times over and…goodness gracious…snails…my Mother had an obsession with snail infestations.
If I was talking to a chum on the phone about perhaps a student in the class with a B.O issue, I might have doodled a complimentary deodorant stick to go with the…Anti-Stink-Pits…as a product brand name perhaps…?
If I was being forced to thank an elderly relative for a box of birthday handkerchiefs, I might of written…I KNOW YOU ARE OLD…BUT WE USE TISSUES NOW..(box of handkerchiefs being lowered into a grave…RIP…etc etc).
When I found out a boyfriend was two-timing me I remember drawing several furious vacuum cleaners with captions such as…YOU SUCK…ANOTHER ONE EATS MY DUST…VAMPIRES AND VACUUM CLEANERS SUCK..BUT NOT AS MUCH AS YOU DO…..DUST MITES ARE TINY AND SO IS YOUR….
Ahhh…bless…teenage angst and doodling…they need one another…
Adult creatures need to give this doodling thing another whirl…go on..all you need is a pad and a pen basically. Or you could go-to-town with multi-coloured pens and all sorts of alternative snazzy accoutrements…
Doodle with your favourite music on, candles blazing and a glass of wine…(ooooooh…romantic doodling…ooooooh), doodle while watching the TV show that you watch but don’t really watch, talking on the phone (retro), in a cafe, up a tree, at work..if you are stressed, blocked, or if you just need a floaty moment of day-dreaming.
So…scatter forth now my precious Moonbeams…get out of your head..and mindlessly doodle…because like a plate of salad greens and blowing bubbles….it’s good for you.
Love…Mamma Moonsparkle. Kiss kiss.