Right now I’m writing this post from my parents living room. It snowed about 3 inches since I woke up and right now my little siblings are outside, sledding on the hill I used to sled on when I was their age. I haven’t tattooed in almost a week. Which isn’t nearly as long as the almost two months that I took off to heal from the double mastectomy that I’m still healing from.
Dormancy has become a new way of being. I started my tattoo career young - and felt that I had to work twice as hard to prove myself in an industry that was by no means welcoming. I was told that if I don’t fight hard - I can lose everything I’ve worked for at a moment’s notice. I could loose my momentum, my relevance and my clientele. If I slow down, it would only show that I love don’t love tattooing as much as I should. And I will have no place in the industry. And outside of tattooing - I felt that I had to prove myself to show that I was worthy of love, affection or even just a livable life. Dormancy was unthinkable back then. If I paused for a second I would realize just how much of a toll the pace at which I was working had taken on me.
But now. With my chest flat and my bank account holding just enough for me to get by this month- I’m reflecting on the benefits of dormancy. It is a natural part of any life cycle. It is necessary for sustained effort and growth. In dormancy, a living being is never stagnant, but instead slowing down to attune to the world it inhabits. And with a cold snowy January, another covid strain, healing incisions in my chest, and a new body to get used to - I think the world around me is not only gently urging dormancy but lovingly demanding it.
I can’t produce at the rate I want to. New ideas for flash designs, paintings and projects will have to just remain ideas. Developing in dormancy until it's time for them to take form. I’m taking this time to read, to write, to do the work within myself that I have been neglecting for a very long time in order to stay productive. I’m forcing myself to rest. Let these incisions heal and trust that everything will work out.
I am not the work I produce. But I must make art in order to feel sane. I’m letting that work turn inward and take other shapes. In this period of dormancy I’m taking advantage of the slowness that seems so rare in New York. And I’m honestly excited to see the person who comes out on the other side in spring.