‘Nervousness’ as a Form of Respect
On the somatics of responsibility and the quiet weight of telling sacred stories.
There’s a kind of trembling that artists sometimes experience. Not stage fright. Not self-doubt. Something subtler. More attuned. More honest.
It’s the feeling that arises when you’re about to depict something that matters. Not just to you - but to a place, a people, a story that’s older than you are.
I recently heard local artist Ruben Urrea Moreno (@rubenumoreno) on Cultivating Indigenous Voices with Valentina Andrew, on KXCI, speaking about a comic book cover he created: one that depicts I’itoi, Elder Brother, the creator of O’odham people. In the interview, Ruben explained that I’itoi is rarely depicted; he’s spoken of, remembered, embodied in stories - but rarely visualized.
So when Ruben was asked to illustrate him, it wasn’t just another gig.
It was a responsibility.
He shared that the process made him sweat. His hands were clammy.
He redid the face more than twenty times.
That’s the kind of nervousness I’m talking about. Not fear of inadequacy - an embodied respect. A somatic signal that said: This isn't about me. I want to get this right.
check out the interview here: KXCI: Cultivating Indigenous Voices Episode 24
There’s a physical intelligence to that kind of pause. The body slows down, insists on care. It’s not anxious - it’s attuned.
I’ve witnessed that in other artists, too. Especially those who work with ancestral memory, cultural legacy, or sacred symbols. There’s a deep sense of listening. A desire not just to express something, but to do right by it. And that desire often shows up as sweat, do-overs, more research, shaking, silence. The body knows when it’s carrying something precious.
Let’s contrast that with another kind of artmaking we often see in public spaces:
Art as charm. As surface. As local color for mass appeal.
That kind of work might be technically skillful, even beloved - but it moves fast. Confident. It doesn’t pause. There’s no clamminess. No friction. Just the ease of someone who’s used to being seen.
I’m not talking about right or wrong, but exploring the relationship to the work.
One is about stewardship.
The other is about style.
And you can feel the difference.
One invites reverence.
The other invites a selfie.
This is about tuning into the quality of attention we bring to creation. It’s about honoring the fact that some images aren’t just images. They’re stories with stakes. And sometimes, the stakes live in our sweat.
That’s what I want more space for. Not just what looks good on a wall, but what hums in the hands. What makes an artist pause, breathe, redo, and respect.
That’s the kind of nervousness I trust.
The kind that says:
I care enough to feel this in my body.
Thanks to Ruben Urrea Moreno for sharing his conceptual drawings for this piece and for sharing his time with me.