My hands

Sometimes I feel like when I open my sketchbook to start a piece I’m watching from above at my hands below me. I’m just watching as they consult my subconscious for an option of references and settle on an image that makes sense for the both of them. I stare as I see them skillfully lay out the necessary materials and create shapes with a certainty that I find difficult to identify with. I watch from above, astonished at how two masses attached to my body somehow developed the expertise necessary to circumvent my mind.