The Case for Coloring Books

This January, I found myself at the bottom of a dark hole where it seemed all my creativity had quietly seeped away through some grimy drain to hidden depths below. None of my usual tricks worked to recover any sense of wonder at the world’s beauty or my own hand in it, so, at the suggestion of a wise friend, I finally resorted to a coloring book. It was the only artistic outlet I could manage, and it turned out to be the perfect answer to my situation. Apparently, there is something to Color Therapy.

This is not my first foray into the world of coloring books. In my previous experiences with coloring, because I had been formally trained in drawing and painting, I scorned the idea of merely filling in someone else’s drawings. While I had given it a shot, I had been handicapped by reluctance to choose the next color lest it be the “wrong” shade, or had rushed to finish the next section instead of waiting for the colors to speak to me. Deep down, I was hung up on what defined an “artist” and paralyzed by the fear of not being exceptional. In short, my inner snob was running the show and the experience was joyless. I had not yet learned to engage my parts in a reflective discourse, nor had I discovered the idea of “good enough”. I had yet to re-experience the pleasure of doing something for its own intrinsic value as I once did in my childhood days.

What I found to be different this time was how I relished every aspect of the process, instead of rushing to achieve an outcome. I put my whole sensory being into every stroke, movement and scratch, layering color on top of color and even taking pleasure in the act of sharpening the pencils to a fine point. My body craved presence. My mind craved the stillness that comes with being fully absorbed in the task at hand. Time ceased to exist. I enjoyed the contrast between the shapes I had filled and the black and white patterns of the remaining uncolored sections. There was no need to fill the entire page because the page had its own story apart from me, like a lifetime that is in the process of being lived, with parts of the story yet to unfold. This is the art I am making at the moment: art that is born of a feeling and art that is about process.

My birthday is this Friday, and reflections such as these are when I especially appreciate the perspective that comes with getting older. Hallelujah!