45. Closed-Eye Giraffe – Marie McGrory
The closed-eye giraffe brought so many smiles that I never stopped.
Back in 2012, I was catching up with my good friend Sofia at a coffee shop. I had my notebook with me, as all good journalists do, and at one point we started doodling together using a closed-eye drawing technique I’d learned in high school called blind contour. We warmed up with the easy objects—first she drew a boat, then I drew a water bottle—before we upped the ante. "Alright," I said, "now draw a giraffe." And to my delight, she proceeded to draw the most incredible giraffe—with her eyes closed!
I was so impressed that I started pulling out my notebook and showing Sofia’s giraffe to friends and colleagues. Everyone who saw it was also impressed and wanted to try their own. The closed-eye giraffe brought so many smiles that I never stopped. I asked strangers on the train and baristas at coffee shops.
Dozens of notebooks later, I finally made an Instagram account to archive them—and so @ClosedEyeGiraffe was born. I’ve gotten submissions from all over the world, in every medium.
In my eight years of collecting closed-eye giraffes, I’ve heard many amusing and thoughtful questions about these creatures, as people try to remember details to add to their drawings. What are those horns on their head called? What shape are their spots? Do they make noises? They have tails … right? It’s an activity that is so easy and accessible, but that brings so much joy.
Now it’s your turn to try.
– Marie McGrory
Prompt:
Close your eyes and draw a giraffe. Your drawing can be of the giraffe’s bust or its full body. It can be in a setting or alone on the page. If you're feeling bold, you can attempt a tower of giraffes.
When you finish, open your eyes and write about your giraffe. What questions and ideas came up? How does your drawing compare to the image you had in your head? What did this exercise reveal—maybe something about your creative practice? Or something about control—and what it’s like to cede it? About trust?
Anonymous
Ari Ziegler
Location: Orinda, CA
About: I am a dancer and artist who spends most of my time coloring outside the lines. I loved this prompt because of the freedom and the surprise and connection I had each time I met my giraffe. It is now my go-to creative process to put on postcards and to do with groups.
Age: 25
Maddie Annis
Location: Baltimore, MD
About: I think this was my favorite prompt. The coloring was done with my eyes open, in case you thought I was an unexpectedly good closed-eye colorer. I am going into my sophomore year at Williams College, and I miss the mountains very very much.
Age: 19
Tania Carriere
Location: Ottawa, Canada
About: As a coach and retreat leader I am intensely curious about how each of us can live our "best lives". This has me experimenting with all kinds of life prompts - keen to discover the next ah-ha which allows me to relax a little further into the fullest expression of me. This one caught my attention immediately because I heard myself say "no way!" - which is always a signal to dive right in.
Age: 51
I received a writing prompt that has me musing.
It suggested that I draw a giraffe with my eyes closed.
I found the suggestion rather astonishing, who would propose such a frivolous thing?
How could this possibly lead to anything meaningful?
Surely there are other more impactful things to tend to right now?
“Just press delete and move on.”, my bossy in-charge self said, “what is the point of doing something so silly?”
But then a rarely heard voice chimed in….
“oh! hurry,
grab the iPad…
no, choose paper… then we can use colours, ….
big colour markers on the flip chart?…
no! eyes closed + markers + the freshly painted wall…
Super-bad idea,
get the notepad,
let’s draw three…!”.
And while Tania-in-charge usually wins, this time there was no denying Tania-in-glee. Seeing as I had nowhere else to be, I found it impossible not to indulge her as you would a puppy wagging its tail at the sight of a ball.
So, a bit cautiously, I closed my eyes, and I did it.
One giraffe, drawn with eyes closed…
hmmm…
She is whimsical, funny, sweet.
Her spots are floating above her body like they’ve had an extra glass of champagne,
her long legs seem to be dancing with different partners, her eyelashes float on the back of her head, like wings.
It is hard to draw a giraffe without looking - kind of like playing pin the tail on the donkey. The fun is when you take off the blindfold to giggle at how far off you were!
I then drew a second and a third,
and for each one, I smiled at the simplicity and the novelty of silliness.
I don’t do silly.
Not ever.
While it originally meant “happy,” as in children’s games or harmless jokes, my experience of ‘silly’ is something, or someone, that can’t be taken seriously. Nonsensical, just-to-be-silly kind of things are… dangerous!
It was a dreaded admonishment received as a little girl. “Don’t be silly” meant I was definitely in the wrong, too close to the edge, and the fun was about to end abruptly. It seemed that somewhere along the way silly coupled itself with shame, leaving me feeling caught unguarded, uncontrolled, vulnerable.
Open to criticism and subject to ridicule.
And yet here I am,
charmed by the whimsical invitation to draw a giraffe with my eyes closed.
I’m curious, if cautious.
So this week, I’ve been dipping my toe into silly… I’ve spent time daydreaming about having wings, I told stories to my cat in all kinds of character voices about the secrets of successful time travel, I pressed my cheek on the bark of my favourite tree which is in the middle of a huge park and in full view of everyone and told her I missed her, I had intentional “crazy hair” day - instead of trying to tame the mane on my head I just decided to wear it all wild on purpose and to meetings, just’ cuz. (My husband took a picture he was so alarmed/bemused!).
I don’t quite have the hang of it yet, but at least I don’t run at the thought of it.
There is a special kind of delight that comes with the bravery of silly - the willingness to let go of outcomes or the illusion of “control” and to be vulnerable to the experience of whimsy. To simply delight in a nonsensical moment is to let go of the behaviour and persona of “performance” and step into the bubbling joy of being in the moment.
No efficiencies, no purpose, no big outcome.
My learning? I can’t articulate it.
Except I feel lighter, more willing to not take myself so seriously.
More at ease, staying in my centre with a smile on my lips.
A little more effervescent and hopeful.
With a recurring desire to draw a giraffe with my eyes closed.
Give it a try.
Come on.
You’ve got time; there is just no reason not to be silly.
