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My left foot [/unintentional Cerebral Palsy in-joke]
Anyway, so at the end of July: I made a list of Na'Arts I wanted to make in the month of August. The very first thing I wrote for that list was:
A hand-drawn sketch of my own, bare, feet (they are the part of my body I am least comfortable with, and I want to get more comfortable with them) Problem: Getting a way so I can actually see them while in a position to draw them...
So this post is ALL the THOUGHTS and FEELS about that, that I just didn't have the energy to post on the day I did the picture:
Okay, so it's one foot, instead of both feet... 'Cause ... Do you know how hard it is to get a clear view of your own feet when you're holding a clipboard in your lap?! Ahem. Anyway, yes...
I'm not sure if it's clear from this perspective, but my feet are "clenched" -- my instep is almost hemispherical, with my toes curled under; if the bones of my feet had the same range of motion as the bones in my hands, my feet would be clenched fists. The angle between my foot and lower leg is actually less than 90 degrees. Here - this picture, illustrating the full, normal, range of motion for the human foot shows what I mean: my feet are stuck in the full UP position -- if someone pulled really hard, they might be able to get my feet to budge down a millimeter, but not without me swearing bloody murder at them, 'cause OW. That dark line I drew around the top of my instep is no exaggeration -- it really is deep crease where the sun (or the library chandelier) don't shine.
I used to be more self-conscious over my feet's weird crooks and creases. But that's no longer the main reason I'm ambivalent toward them now. (As my friends know, I'm perfectly willing to be weird). And I'm even cool about their spasticity and its discomfort most of the time.
It's just that this is something that was deliberately done to me by medical professionals, determined to fix a common "defect" in people with cerebral palsy. You see, for most (if not all [??]) folks with C.P., their feet default to the "Down" position-- regardless of the type of C.P., and regardless of severity. The symptom of "toe-walking," as I understand it, is one of the ways doctors diagnose C.P. -- or at least, in the days before CAT scans. So the doctors went in and cut my Achilles tendons.
So... One day, when I was twelve, or thereabouts (this would be around 1976), I had a physical therapy appointment to have my gait evaluated by a doctor. And during the ride over there, my mother made a concerted point to remind me to bend my knees when I walked, so I wouldn't appear so stiff and jerky, 'cause the doctors were evaluating me for surgery. ... And this didn't occur to me until I started going over my recollections for this post, but: that probably meant my mother didn't see the same severe level abnormality in my gait that the doctors did, and she didn't think I needed the operation... which makes me even angrier and sadder about this whole episode.
So, for the appointment, mother stays out in the waiting room while I go into the big Physical Therapy gym, to walk back and forth on my crutches ... I have a memory of walking over those foam gym mats, but I'm not sure of that (The memory cheats)... with the therapist walking alongside. And I have two very clear memories;
1) I was deliberately bending my knees -- and lifting my feet -- far more than I would if I were just walking without thinking about it (I was imagining myself as a stork, just so you know), and
2) Seeing the doctor who would be in charge of this surgery out of the corner of my eye -- knowing he was evaluating me for abnormalities (but not knowing what he was looking forme if I was uncomfortable with how I was walking, how quickly I tired, or if my legs or feet hurt when I walked ... anything like that. I can see not asking a three-year-old, but I was twelve. I was a linguistically advanced twelve-year-old. I could have told them... if they'd asked (which, now that I think of it, may be why they didn't).
I don't even know if the decision to perform this surgery was made after just that one session, of if this was the last of many where they'd been 'keeping an eye on me.' So, you know... In the back of my mind, I can't help wondering what would have happened if I hadn't pretended I was a stork (probably the exact same thing).
Which is why I'm uncomfortable and ambivalent in my relationship with my feet: Every time they get stuck in my trouser legs when I dress, or get stuck under the bottom drawer of a cabinet, every time my sheets come loose and wrap around my ankles like spaghetti around a fork, I'm reminded of that damned smug bastard in the doorway, determined to make me fit his definition of "normal," and drum up some business for the hospital, to boot.
I don't mind the difficulties, per se, but it's just that these specific difficulties are the literal "embodiment" of our society's institutionalized ableism. And my feet won't let me forget that.
The thing that I love about drawing from life, by hand, is that in order to do it well, you have to slow down, and really look carefully at the thing (or part of yourself) that's in front of your eyes -- not your memories of it, or prejudices about it -- but what's really, actually there in the present moment (Which is why drawing from life is better than drawing from a photograph). So I'll probably do another foot picture or three. I'd love to get in front of a full-length mirror, so I can draw the whole of me, either nude or not (my feet are almost always nude, except in public). But I don't have such a mirror, yet.
This was going to be a much longer post... but writing this (with breaks for dinner and snack) has taken me five hours. So there may or may not be a part 2...
Oh, and here are The rest of that list:
A hand-drawn facial portrait (I've done one every year, it's a thing) Done.
Make a video response to Vi Hart's Squiggle Inception (specifically ~ 3 1/2 minute mark) Done.
More monsters -- this time, ones that are explicitly disabled -- perhaps after a run-in with a knight Done.
Some three-dimensional art... tactile -- not done :-( Maybe a Gl'Art, coming soon.
Write a song -- maybe my own version of a Geek pride song. Sorta Done; not a song with lyrics, but I did compose a a hornpipe and use it as the music for a video-from-stills: Emergence of a Scribble Monster (and friend)
A hand-drawn sketch of my own, bare, feet (they are the part of my body I am least comfortable with, and I want to get more comfortable with them) Problem: Getting a way so I can actually see them while in a position to draw them...
So this post is ALL the THOUGHTS and FEELS about that, that I just didn't have the energy to post on the day I did the picture:
Okay, so it's one foot, instead of both feet... 'Cause ... Do you know how hard it is to get a clear view of your own feet when you're holding a clipboard in your lap?! Ahem. Anyway, yes...
I'm not sure if it's clear from this perspective, but my feet are "clenched" -- my instep is almost hemispherical, with my toes curled under; if the bones of my feet had the same range of motion as the bones in my hands, my feet would be clenched fists. The angle between my foot and lower leg is actually less than 90 degrees. Here - this picture, illustrating the full, normal, range of motion for the human foot shows what I mean: my feet are stuck in the full UP position -- if someone pulled really hard, they might be able to get my feet to budge down a millimeter, but not without me swearing bloody murder at them, 'cause OW. That dark line I drew around the top of my instep is no exaggeration -- it really is deep crease where the sun (or the library chandelier) don't shine.
I used to be more self-conscious over my feet's weird crooks and creases. But that's no longer the main reason I'm ambivalent toward them now. (As my friends know, I'm perfectly willing to be weird). And I'm even cool about their spasticity and its discomfort most of the time.
It's just that this is something that was deliberately done to me by medical professionals, determined to fix a common "defect" in people with cerebral palsy. You see, for most (if not all [??]) folks with C.P., their feet default to the "Down" position-- regardless of the type of C.P., and regardless of severity. The symptom of "toe-walking," as I understand it, is one of the ways doctors diagnose C.P. -- or at least, in the days before CAT scans. So the doctors went in and cut my Achilles tendons.
So... One day, when I was twelve, or thereabouts (this would be around 1976), I had a physical therapy appointment to have my gait evaluated by a doctor. And during the ride over there, my mother made a concerted point to remind me to bend my knees when I walked, so I wouldn't appear so stiff and jerky, 'cause the doctors were evaluating me for surgery. ... And this didn't occur to me until I started going over my recollections for this post, but: that probably meant my mother didn't see the same severe level abnormality in my gait that the doctors did, and she didn't think I needed the operation... which makes me even angrier and sadder about this whole episode.
So, for the appointment, mother stays out in the waiting room while I go into the big Physical Therapy gym, to walk back and forth on my crutches ... I have a memory of walking over those foam gym mats, but I'm not sure of that (The memory cheats)... with the therapist walking alongside. And I have two very clear memories;
1) I was deliberately bending my knees -- and lifting my feet -- far more than I would if I were just walking without thinking about it (I was imagining myself as a stork, just so you know), and
2) Seeing the doctor who would be in charge of this surgery out of the corner of my eye -- knowing he was evaluating me for abnormalities (but not knowing what he was looking forme if I was uncomfortable with how I was walking, how quickly I tired, or if my legs or feet hurt when I walked ... anything like that. I can see not asking a three-year-old, but I was twelve. I was a linguistically advanced twelve-year-old. I could have told them... if they'd asked (which, now that I think of it, may be why they didn't).
I don't even know if the decision to perform this surgery was made after just that one session, of if this was the last of many where they'd been 'keeping an eye on me.' So, you know... In the back of my mind, I can't help wondering what would have happened if I hadn't pretended I was a stork (probably the exact same thing).
Which is why I'm uncomfortable and ambivalent in my relationship with my feet: Every time they get stuck in my trouser legs when I dress, or get stuck under the bottom drawer of a cabinet, every time my sheets come loose and wrap around my ankles like spaghetti around a fork, I'm reminded of that damned smug bastard in the doorway, determined to make me fit his definition of "normal," and drum up some business for the hospital, to boot.
I don't mind the difficulties, per se, but it's just that these specific difficulties are the literal "embodiment" of our society's institutionalized ableism. And my feet won't let me forget that.
The thing that I love about drawing from life, by hand, is that in order to do it well, you have to slow down, and really look carefully at the thing (or part of yourself) that's in front of your eyes -- not your memories of it, or prejudices about it -- but what's really, actually there in the present moment (Which is why drawing from life is better than drawing from a photograph). So I'll probably do another foot picture or three. I'd love to get in front of a full-length mirror, so I can draw the whole of me, either nude or not (my feet are almost always nude, except in public). But I don't have such a mirror, yet.
This was going to be a much longer post... but writing this (with breaks for dinner and snack) has taken me five hours. So there may or may not be a part 2...
Oh, and here are The rest of that list:
A hand-drawn facial portrait (I've done one every year, it's a thing) Done.
Make a video response to Vi Hart's Squiggle Inception (specifically ~ 3 1/2 minute mark) Done.
More monsters -- this time, ones that are explicitly disabled -- perhaps after a run-in with a knight Done.
Some three-dimensional art... tactile -- not done :-( Maybe a Gl'Art, coming soon.
Write a song -- maybe my own version of a Geek pride song. Sorta Done; not a song with lyrics, but I did compose a a hornpipe and use it as the music for a video-from-stills: Emergence of a Scribble Monster (and friend)