hands

I just spent a little time in the drawing studio to finish up a piece I had started last night. About 85% of it is solid black, so needless to say I was using a ton of charcoal. After drawing for about 10 minutes or so, my hands were filthy and my fingertips were solid black themselves. Studying my hands, I couldn't help but think of the hands of farmworkers, particularly at Immokalee. My hands were in this state last night as well, but I didn't make this connection until a few moments ago. Even after scrubbing my hands for a good while, they haven't come completely clean. Last night, a friend looked at my hands and said "Gross, why are your hands so black." "Oh, I was drawing and using a ton of charcoal." "Ok, I was wondering why you're so filthy." Filthy. I am so filthy. I know nothing was meant by the statement, but I was being judged because of how my hands appeared. And I have become so filthy because of something I choose and enjoy to do. Imagine the judgment put onto hard working people who toil and struggle picking tomatoes in extreme and harsh conditions. I feel guilty because I know I try to defend why my hands turn black. "I know I like look a nasty mechanic, but really I've been drawing." A nasty mechanic. Seriously? My hands are black because I am blessed enough to go to a school with a decent art department. I am blessed enough to live in a large dorm, where I can walk downstairs and go to this art studio whenever I please. I am blessed enough to return from drawing and sit at a Mac Computer and write this. I am blessed. And I feel guilty.

I stood up from my drawing and noticed that loads of charcoal dust had found their way to my pants. Khaki pants nonetheless. I couldn't help but picture Bev's reaction to this. She would be steaming mad if she saw my dirty pants. Steaming mad. They're just pants. I have many more pairs. And I also have access to a free washer and dryer.

I made the decision to draw in silence tonight. And by made the decision, I mean I forgot to take my ipod with me. Because of this, I was able to let my mind think. And to examine my black hands. It's important to separate ourselves from modern distractions. I don't do that enough.