La Douleur Exquise
Let’s get right into it.
I had a handful of “professional development” classes I was obligated to take in college, as many do. Something that continuously came up as a method of promoting yourself was writing newsletters and sending them to unsuspecting potential employers. I have always found self-promotion uncomfortable, but this was so obnoxious to me that I got sympathetically annoyed for the inboxes of these hypothetical employers, which is troubling. No one should care about the feelings of employers or their inboxes.
However.
I do like to talk about my work— many who know me have experienced how much I can go on when given the opportunity. With this being the case, I figured I should probably create a space for myself to do just that while kind of sort of promoting my work. There will be no unsolicited newsletters sent to hiring managers, but you can subscribe if you want to get a notification whenever I post :)
This will also be an exercise in sharing but not oversharing, a tightrope I don’t always walk gracefully.
On to La Douleur Exquise.
It pains me to say I have to be vague about the inciting incident that inspired this series, but I’d walk myself to the nearest bridge if the person involved figured out they had anything to do with this. I’m not even going to give a timeline for when I was working on this project because I think it would give too much away. To put it simply -and point out what is made obvious by the illustrations- I tripped and fell into a state of infatuation that I’ve been stuck in for over a year now. I’ll talk about the emotional significance later on to keep this post as streamlined as possible.
Once I got my bearings, I knew I had to document this experience as soon as it happened. A new muse, at last. At first, I was thinking a lot about how you idealize the person of interest (POI for convenience) when your crush is developing. Bright Star by Anaïs Mitchell was initially a reference for the imagery I was creating for this project, likening the muse to an object from the heavens that is so bright it obscures your perception of their humanity. I then thought of Doryphoros, or the Spear-Bearer, a 5th-century BC sculpture depicting ideal masculinity in Greece. Because yes, I am always finding a way to incorporate Greek art and mythology into my work. It’s a compulsion.
With all this in mind, I set out to make a series of self-portraits moving through the various emotions I was experiencing: the flash-bang moment of infatuation, the hope of reciprocation, the anxiety in longing. You know. That kind of thing. Any depiction of the POI would be a Doryphoros-like figure with a blinding, star-like quality. There is an invitation to think critically about how I, both as the artist and the fully depicted human in the illustration, objectify the POI by using symbols of ideal masculinity and obscuring their full view from both myself and the viewer.
At some point in this process, I came across the term “limerence”. You may have heard this word on your short-form video platform of choice from people with a need to over-pathologize everything about themselves. Having been introduced to this from some random relationship influencer that came across my feed, I was surprised to see this is an actual term for a state of mind developed by an actual psychologist and subject to actual academic debate, and not just like. A pretty word that people like to throw around.
From the Cleveland Clinic:
“Limerence” describes an involuntary attachment to another person — also known as a “limerent object” (LO) — that takes on an obsessive quality. The involuntary nature of the connection is key: The experience of limerence is similar to addiction and other compulsive behaviors. Limerence alters your mental and biological state. You’re consumed by your feelings for another person, whether you like it or not. Psychologist Dorothy Tennov developed the concept in the late 1970s.”
“There’s an active debate about whether limerence should be classified as a mental health condition. Duke’s [Natacha Duke, MA, RP] take: Limerence is best understood as an attachment disorder. “When you have an avoidant or anxious attachment style, it means you didn’t form a secure bond with your caregiver as a child, for whatever reason. As a result, you don’t have a secure attachment with yourself,” she explains.”
Limerence is experienced in a narratively convenient three stages: Infatuation, Crystallization, and Deterioration. Perfect! I now have a three-act structure to base this series on. I’ve gotten into the habit of making vision boards, compiling all the research I do when I start a project. At a certain point it becomes procrastination, but it’s fun and not entirely useless procrastination. Anyway, using the stages of limerence, I made three vision boards for the three illustrations I’d be making, representing these stages through myself.
Infatuation
“The infatuation stage is when you establish a real or perceived connection with a limerent object — who may or may not actually know you. It can look similar to love at first sight, but it can also be gradual. You may start having intrusive thoughts or fantasies about them. When you interact with them, you’re probably anxious and excited. You overanalyze those interactions later, looking for “evidence” they’re interested in you.”
Crystallization
“Crystallization is when the feelings you develop in the infatuation stage reach their height. Any doubts you had that your LO is perfect are gone.
Infatuation can feel nice, like the thrill of a new crush. Crystallization, not so much. Your interest is now an obsession. The intrusive thoughts and fantasies take up large chunks of your day. You feel like your identity and willpower are slipping away as you become more and more desperate for your limerent object to reciprocate your feelings.”
Deterioration
“Uncertainty about an LO’s interest sustains limerence. But certainty will eventually intervene — sometimes gradually, sometimes lightning fast. That’s when you enter the deterioration stage. Maybe your limerent object rejects you outright or does so indirectly by dating or marrying somebody else. Perhaps you learn something about them that topples the pedestal you’d placed them on. You might come to terms with reality and accept you’ll never meet them. Or you could find somebody new to focus on — if you’re lucky, it’s somebody you can have a healthier relationship with.
While rare, there is one other possibility: You and your LO actually do come together and build a relationship. Limerence can end in that scenario, too, because the work of being in a healthy relationship with another person interrupts the fantasy. It’s similar to a honeymoon period ending: The relationship may be less exciting, but it’s also more honest and comfortable.”
As said by Natacha Duke, whom I quoted earlier, there has been debate on whether limerence should be considered a mental illness or an attachment disorder– I prefer to keep it at arm’s length as a kind of pop psychology term. I think these are rather normal emotions and behaviors that, if disruptive enough, can be taken as an indicator of some underlying condition. Using myself as an example, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at 15 years old and have an insecure relationship with my emotionally austere family. As weird as this journey has been for me, I am not surprised to recognize these “symptoms” within myself because of my history. I’m very wary of both myself and others over-pathologizing every little quirk and insisting it must be a sign of something wrong. I think it contributes to people sanding down the edges of their personality, or, alternatively, excusing bad behavior to be the most insufferable twerps on the planet. Think Kendra Hilty using limerence to excuse her inappropriate behavior toward her psychiatrist.
Now, if you’re looking at my illustrations, you may be thinking: “This is great and all, but I don’t see how most of what you’ve said relates to the pieces you’re talking about”. Great observation. I hit several perplexing roadblocks during the process of making these pieces that forced me to shrink the scope and make my expectations meet my skill, because at some point, you really just have to get on with your life.
The biggest problem? My face. Many such cases. I was always going to have a hard time with this because I don’t particularly like looking at myself. I’m not one of those artists who use their self-portraits to zero in on their perceived flaws and embrace them. So there was a balance I had to strike between being honest and being kind to myself to avoid the worst of the psychological warfare I was about to conduct.
There’s a belief among some artists that we unintentionally leave impressions of ourselves in the faces of people we depict. I must have the opposite problem because I don’t think this would have been so difficult for me if it were -apparently- so easy to make others look like you by accident. Whenever I’m working from a reference, which I was for this, I use the grid method to get the foundation of my drawing as exact as I can before I make any tweaks and lay down color. But even with that preparation, I’d get to a point while rendering where I’d take a step back and not see anything that even remotely resembled me. If I could guess what was giving me trouble, it’s that my features all rest on the same rather shallow plain that don’t create significant shadows unless put under harsh lighting. Portraits in general can be challenging because I find it quite easy to reach a point in the rendering process where the face appears both overworked and underworked at the same time. Nevertheless, as someone who prides themselves on their ability to capture other people, it was frustrating to not be able to do the same for myself. The solution, in the end, was to go with a more stylized look instead of the realism I was aiming for.
A reference photo I took for an earlier composition, and the overlay painting I did to help figure out what the hell was going on. It didn’t help.
There were other smaller, less emotional roadblocks I hit along the way. I originally wanted three cohesive compositions that portrayed the stages of limerence. I wanted each piece to feel like it was moving from one frame to another, like comic book panels. Turns out, it’s really hard to do that with portraits. Everything I came up with was stagnant and same-y, so what would be the point of telling this story through illustration if its compositionally uninteresting, convoluted, or redundant? I decided to reduce my goal to one or two illustrations and move away from more obvious representations of the “stages” (however obvious that can possibly be), and just figure out what looks good. You may notice something else missing here: the man. Um. What can I say? I couldn’t get the effect I wanted, so I decided to take him out of the equation (generally good life advice all around). I brought in the arrow as common symbolism for Eros or Cupid, and while my blank expression is used to balance out the drama of being shot in the head with an arrow, it is also representative of this begrudging resignation I feel at the moment.
There are a handful of folks who know I fall pretty deep on the asexual/aromantic spectrum. I don’t want to get into all the often contradictory ways people (including myself) define what asexuality/aromanticism is or isn’t, because despite all evidence to the contrary, I do value my sanity. I guess I’d just like to say these are labels that I still find mostly relevant to me, as I never feel the compulsion to actively find a partner.
Every so often, though, someone catches my attention.
My first “relationship” was an ill-advised, star-crossed social experiment that was so embarrassing for everyone involved it would be a mercy to erase it from all our memories. And I do mean all— our friends didn’t deserve to be exposed to the mental illness displayed between the two of us. But that’s high school, I guess.
The last twinge I felt was several years ago for a girl I met overseas. I think everyone who travels internationally is obligated to fall a little in love with someone on at least one of their excursions. Keeps things interesting without being life-altering.
For the most part, however, I move through life not wanting to pursue or be pursued by anyone. It’s not a goal of mine to get married or have kids. But I also have a “whatever happens, happens” mentality. Except for kids, kids are a hard no.
The optimists in the room may be wondering why I’ve been so evasive about the who, what, where, why, and how, while being so certain about there being no potential for a relationship. What’s the harm in just shooting your shot? Girls, I cannot overstate how unavailable this person is. It’s not happening, and I’d rather maintain the friendship without making it weird. I have to believe these feelings will alleviate at some point when a more interesting fixation comes along.
When you get down to it, Infatuation is often just a shiny toy to distract yourself from some lack you’re experiencing in another part of your life. This past year, I have felt acutely not good enough for much of anything. So when this rare (for me) phenomenon occurs, I ask, Will this be the thing that saves me? The answer is no — no one thing can be a cure-all for your issues, and it seems I’m settling into the phase where you feel kinda stupid for letting the daydream get as far as it did. Because, despite this person having always been unavailable, that unavailability still feeds into this irrational inferiority complex that has been burning a hole through my self-worth.
But still, I yearn for the experience of someone, in any capacity (literally any capacity —romantic, platonic, a future employer, ANYTHING), to look at me and go “I want you around” and like, really mean what they say. It’s true that no one relationship, job, hobby, or accomplishment will fulfill you completely. You have to go out and meet your needs with a variety of things, but I do think, as social animals, it shouldn’t be all on the individual to fill their own cup. You’re the foundation, for sure, but the idea that you have to do it all, be it all, for yourself is the exact kind of individualist thinking that will be the end of us. I have to keep telling myself it’s okay to want comfort and validation from others, and to feel off without it, I’m not a parasite for wanting connection.
And yes, buried beneath all the cynicism I use as armor, there is the faintest glimmer of hope that this could happen. But I have to keep that in check because I may become the next Kendra Hilty if I don’t.
C’est la vie, I guess. It’s about time I move on to better things.
As for these illustrations, it’s hard to say where I stand with them at the moment— I need distance from it all. But at least it’s out of my system!
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Thank you for reading this first entry— I’m psyching myself out as I publish this, but I look forward to sharing more about my process for new work in the future!
— Alice
