I was left in awe at the beauty of Will's video whilst I realised I didn't have a happy place. When I am sad or anxious, I usually venture back into bed, beneath a 13.5 tog duvet whether it's January or July and I ponder. Which has the exact opposite effect of what the Natural History Museum does for Will. My focus is upon a singular room in my Mother's four bedroom house and my problems seem exacerbated by my self focus and languid approach. I'd been dealing with things all wrong. I wanted to find a happy place.
Since I finished my A levels I have wanted to do all the things I was dreaming of whilst locked in classrooms. But I am quite like a prisoner just released, who doesn't quite know how to adventure beyond the school routine I've lived for the past 14 years. Yesterday I took my first adventure of the summer. I roped in my friend Syed and we headed on the fast train to London and within 30 minutes I was drinking my Starbucks and heading to South Kensington to explore museums.
I thought of Will's video as I strolled around the Natural History Museum, admiring the sheer scale of Giant Land Sloths and the likeness between dinosaurs and my tortoise Elmo. I even saw a tortoise skeleton which partly answered a question I've long been pondering for eight years: 'what would a tortoise look like with out a shell?' (the answer is very squishy). As Syed, whom happens to be a Chemistry student, wandered around the cabinets of stones and minerals, testing himself on how many he could name based on sight, I simply admired the beauty and awed at the fact that the universe creates such wonders. I realised how differently our brains are wired, and that as George R. R. Martin said: ''We look up at the same stars, and see such different things.'' We are all so unique, creativity and passion exists in so many different forms. The museum left me inspired, but not happy. As I said, we are all so different, and what makes a happy place for Will, didn't have the same impact on me.
After Lunch I suggested we ventured to the Tate. Art has long been inspiring to me as a writer. It is very much poetry without the words. I had never been to the Tate before and I was overwhelmed by it all. I saw paintings we'd recreated in year nine art class including Monet's Water Lilies and Picaso's weeping woman in the flesh, which was utterly awe inspiring. It was like that moment where you bump into a celebrity walking down the street and as much as you want to keep it cool, you fan girl your hardest. You forget how to put sentences together properly and instead of saying all the things you really wanted to say, like 'the things you create inspire me,' or 'I love your latest film,' you just blurt out 'omg I love you fuck I cant believe you're real can I have a hug.' It's happened to all of us, hasn't it? Well that was me, over inanimate objects. I was fan girling over art. I was lost in my own mind and forgetting how to do anything but appreciate. Strangely, I felt perfectly comfortable being so lost and unable to express myself. It seemed that everyone around me was equally contemplative and appreciative of our surroundings. I was among somewhat kindred spirits, simply appreciating beauty.
I discovered artists I didn't know about before, namely Louise Bourgeois whose work I connected with in an instant. As I observed her drawings when she couldn't sleep, simplistic pencil marks and reminders to keep calm, I thought of my own late night scrawling's in note books, often tear stained and illegible. I remembered that our suffering can be a stimulus for art. My current mental health issues, my anxiety and depression, they do not have to hold me back. In fact, they have the potential to propel me into the future. The past few months have been turbulent. I have felt sad, anxious and distressed at the fact that I have no idea where I will be in September and my exam results may potentially define my future. The Tate bought me back to a sense of reality amongst such fantastical works. I remembered that at eighteen, the unknown, although scary, isn't a hazard. There are no direct trains. This is all an adventure and adversity does not have to be a hindrance. The Tate reminded me that fantastic opportunity can be born from the unknown.
I think the Tate is my happy place. A place in which I could get lost and realise that nothing matters. A place where I could be inspired to create better things and aspire towards a better life. A place where somebody who has so much to say can lose all her words and just contemplate. A place I have left with a deep passion to create.
With greatest thanks to Will Darbyshire, for inspiring me to find my happy place.
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