I find that art is a prayer. I start with intention – as well as some degree of doubt, distraction and hope… But as I move my hand and a form begins to take shape, I’m caught up in a process that cradles me. The cadences of the prayer, in this case the smears and scrapes and contrasts of white on black, convey a quality that calms, centers, and calls me forward. I am no longer the beseecher, but the receiver.
As I work, I resist refining. I do what I can with a spatula of molding paste, scraping to create eyes and ears and lifted chin. I pray that I might lift my face to all that comes, seeing every person and event as a gift for my learning.
By keeping my heart open, my shoulders are unburdened. Wings grow where weariness once resided. My prayer is to resist fixing, making pretty, accommodating… I am here to allow it all in, so that I walk in wholeness. The messiness, the wonder, the grace.
I am grateful to learn and re-learn my true nature, one creative prayer after the next.
This swan has been waiting for me to give it form. I haven’t known why, but there is no doubt that she’s been calling me. It was only as my hand-made Japanese papers and gold leaf were drying today that I paused to look in my Ted Andrews Animal Speak guide to see what swans have traditionally symbolized in the ancient language of mythology and shamanic traditions.
I find that swan is one of the most ancient and powerful totems, recognized as integrating spiritual sensing (in the head that is held high above the body) with grounding in the current of emotions (often linked with water.) She tells me to flow with what comes, while keeping my head above the feelings I may notice arising.
The swan can see the inner beauty in others, even when they can’t yet see it themselves. She is the totem of artists, mystics and dreamers.
I am grateful to call on this image as I go forward.
After starting this figure on an afternoon in November, I was interrupted by a call from Hospice telling me that my elderly father had taken a turn for the worse. I left her unfinished for weeks as I went to sit with him. She was a backdrop as I said good bye, and eventually returned to the world of Christmas shopping and To Do lists.
It was only in recent days that I returned to my studio to give her legs and complete her dress. All the while, I wondered about her. She seemed to be a guide, but what could I learn from her?
I believe she speaks for my father. Follow me. Take courage, even though you go into the dark. It is there that you will meet yourself, apart from the story lines that have defined who you are.
It is death that teaches us about how to live. I am grateful for her strength and resilience that remind me that my dad’s love will never die. He is a part of me.
May you all sit with the darkness and gold in your lives in this holiday season, knowing the grace that comes through both.
A new angel.
Facing a black gessoed surface, I make my first pass with molding paste and see what suggests itself. This is like peering into the subconscious and noticing what rises to the surface.
Today is an easy day. The angel who arises is feeling the energy of this 11-11-11 phase, a jackpot of 1′s coming into alignment.
To me, this speaks of ease. It’s a time when simple, direct setting of intention carries extra weight.
Be careful what you ask for, because it’s on its way. Be ready to grow and change, in step with your soul. Your job is to hold the hand of your perhaps fearful little child, so they get to come along with you to the ball.
As I move my palette knife, faces take shape almost as if guides or friends are appearing. A slight pressure or scrape can change the feeling expressed from one extreme to another. But I believe there are no mistakes. I trust what comes forward.
These faces show me a range of emotions from the first man’s ecstasy, to the young girl’s worry, to the third man’s ruefulness. I have experienced all those feelings as I’ve loosened my grip on corralling the details of my life.
I choose to live in a place of surrender, knowing that I am safe, guided and part of an intelligent, loving universe. My art becomes a prayer to simply allow it all, knowing that the next step will arrive in a way I could never orchestrate.
All is well.
Ahhh. I was back in the studio today, after several weeks of travel. For me to again approach a blank board waiting for me to fill it is to re-engage a dialogue with my spirit. Just as in “waking” life, there is a settling down to be done. Any attachment to outcome has to be gently set aside, so that my surrender brings surprise.
I look at this figure that has morphed from a picture of a modern dancer that has called to me. I realize that her robes seem to be made of clouds and her hands are enveloped inside the folds. Like me, she can not grasp the future. She must open her arms to what takes shape, knowing that it is her allowing that brings her peace.
I’ll return to my studio tomorrow to see what else is asked. I may add some papers to suggest patterns in her robes, or refine the details. But for today, this is enough.
Art often acts as an invitation to awareness. I begin a piece and the universe rushes in to tell me what I need to know. That happened this month as I travelled to northern New Mexico, where the wide, expansive skies became my teacher. They told me not to hold back or contrive, but to let the colors of my life loose. (There’s nothing subtle about a desert sunset.)
I had a dream last night that I had fallen asleep in the desert. My stillness allowed me to become part of the landscape, so when I awoke, animals chased and danced around me, unaware of my presence. I wanted to be part of the untamed, unselfconscious life I saw around me.
I’m guided by my intuition, whether it comes in the form of art, dreams, or ideas that seem to pop into my head. I’m excited by what’s possible when I resist playing safe.
We’re all called to shine, just as we are in this moment. Trust that the knowing you have now will guide you to the next, until your colors travel in all directions. To do any less is to let the world down.
I love how creativity hijacks me. I was on my way to creating a background for a figure a few days
ago when a mountainscape took form. I’ve been wooing it, adding ink and acrylic gel, and working with dry brushes to bring out clouds and highlights reflected in the water. I’m looking forward to adding color to the sky that will pull the composition together, but right now I’m just observing where it’s leading me.
I have a dear friend who is approaching some mountains of her own. I like this way of keeping her company. I’m patient with my journey, hovering over my shoulder to see what’s happening beneath my paintbrush. I know that she’ll have that same sense of curiosity that will see her through her process.
The more we can shift to being observers, allowing the factors of our lives to coagulate in alignment with the natural flow of things, the more we become artists of our own satisfaction.