Dirty Hands

In the documentary AKA Mr. Chow there is a clip where M describes himself:

“I’m a prince. Look at my hands, they’re soft and delicate, no hard or manual labor.”

This is the exact opposite of what I pursue.

Admissions work is knowledge work. Very few things are tangible in education. It’s the nature of knowledge. Because of that I have a longing to create something physical. Where my mark can be felt. Not in pursuit of recognition (maybe a little recognition), but in pursuit of existence. Perhaps a reminder of being physically alive. Marking my time on the planet.

This is really a philosophical justification for the fact that I like to get my hands dirty. I love looking down and seeing my hands marked up, worn out, bleeding. All signs of doing the work.

It started in college spending time in the art studio. I’d leave covered in paint, pastel, or graphite. This was particularly satisfying when I was working on a long term project. My dirty hands were sign of progress. Doing the work that needed to be done to reach my goal.

Working at Oregon College of Art and Craft I was surrounded by students and colleagues who couldn’t help but make. Their lives were defined by it. I envied them. Creating feels so much better than consuming.

As much as I like to look down and see the dirt under my fingernails I often hesitate to start or continue a project that results in dirty hands. This hesitation reminds me a story my dad told over the pulpit about doing the dishes.

Putting your hands into the soapy, dirty, water to get the dishes done is uncomfortable. It can be a barrier to even getting started, holding off on the task for as long possible. Giving space for my thoughts to reinforce how awful it is to do the dishes. But getting started, dipping my hands in the water is enough to keep going. Proving at the end that the dishes weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be.