294. Portrait of My Right Foot - Bianca Bosker

“In order to arrive somewhere that feels fresh and new, you have to break down what feels expected.”

A few weeks ago, frustrated by a story-in-progress that seemed to be stalling out, I forced myself to step away from my desk. I checked the fridge several times (excellent cure for writer's block) and checked Instagram several times (terrible cure for writer's block). I vacuumed. Ultimately, I ended up on my couch with what I discovered to be a terrific companion: My right foot. For maybe half an hour, my foot posed, very patiently, while I drew its portrait. I don't tend to spend a lot of time examining those five toes, but when I did—it was like exploring a new neighborhood in a new city, full of surprises and the thrill of discovery. The veins! The bumps! The mysterious hairs, nubs, and nails! An adventure.

Later, while reviewing notes for a book I'm writing, I came across a quote I'd scribbled in a notebook. It was advice from an artist: “In order to arrive somewhere that feels fresh and new,” she’d told me, “you have to break down what feels expected.” I thought back to my foot, which I've seen every day, for decades. But looking isn't the same as examining. And examining isn't the same as conveying. That exercise of translating—in, say, words or images—the essence of what we perceive can deliver us to someplace fresh and new, even without ever leaving the couch. I experienced it, and I hope, now, it's your turn.

- Bianca Bosker

Prompt

Draw a portrait of your right foot (or, if you prefer, the right foot of anything—a chair, a table, a pet) using whatever medium you'd like. After you finish the portrait, write a description of the foot as though it were a character you're introducing—its physical attributes, but also its personality and demeanor. Who is it? Where has it been? What does it want? What’s it like?