Monday 21 December 2020

A Year of Happenings

To paint an image, or write a story or poem, is to make inchoate ideas or unnameable feelings into tangible realities, to turn them into happenings in my life. 

To create works of art is to prove that however small life with chronic illness may be, there is an unfathomable largeness at the centre of it, from which wonders can emerge, if I allow belief to triumph over doubt.



By making art I circumnavigate that core largeness, not always knowing how to make contact with it, and not brave enough (yet) to enter it wholly, but often siphoning some gift from the depths, some vision from Source that feeds me in ways I do not understand, yet know are vital. Though while my soul is nourished by this work, the hunger always returns, which keeps me continually seeking a way inside, to see what more I can find.

To touch and converse with the largeness I know I must nurture a discipline of withness,* though it seems impossible right now, except perhaps in small, blessed moments. My capacity to receive, to engage, to participate fully, is impaired and diminished. But I do aspire to the discipline—to be a follower–partaker–knower of life’s rhythms—and hope that my heart-mind finds its way back to the experience of connection and possibility I have known before. 

One day, perhaps, I will fall unexpectedly back into grace, and dwell there for a time, where I will make the art I need to make to bring magic back into the world. 


*


The beginnings of the above thoughts came to me one night recently when I couldn't sleep, and they seemed a good way to end this turbulent, uncertain and testing year. 


I feel as if I have made less art, though that isn’t actually true, as I’ve made two more pieces than I did last year. I am, however, less satisfied with a few images, whilst also delighting in the fact that my work is becoming more visually complex, and thus more difficult to create. My problem-solving skills have been put to good use many a time, and I am rising to the challenge of drawing tricky things.


I have also learnt to sew, and have so far made three tops, a skirt and a dress, with more projects in planning, whilst continuing with knitting—including the Deer with Little Antlers Hat by Tiny Owl Knits for my niece! So once more I have achieved more than I realise.



Here are some of my favourite paintings from the year that was:


Matrix

Beneath the Mountain

Our Lady of the Stars

Our Lady of the Seeds

Mundus

Sacred Mountain


There are some exciting things afoot for 2021, so I’m going to devote myself to studio time as much as I can this summer (which hopefully will be much easier to do than it was last summer).


Thank you to all my readers and new followers for accompanying me on my creative journey, and to the people in the US and France who bought some of my work on Redbubble. I will be putting my modest earnings towards art supplies. 

  

Summer/Winter Solstice greetings, and Happy Holidays, however you may or may not celebrate them.


* ‘… a discipline of withness—of seasonal rhythm, of internal bodily rhythm and cyclicity …’ (Monica Sjöö & Barbara Mor, The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth, Harper One: New York, 1987/1991, p. 326)

Friday 18 December 2020

The Wild Nun: The Divinest Sense / At the Core

This broken world is overwhelming to body-mind, to spirit. 

How is anyone supposed to cope? 


Most importantly, how are the sensitive ones to cope? How do we survive, healthy, with sanity intact? 

Perhaps it is not possible. Perhaps the challenge is to live, unhealthy and with ‘the divinest sense’ of insanity, and to function despite that. To express the dis-ease, the madness, the passion that will not be silenced for it speaks for life, and all that is being lost, profaned, poisoned.


Pasque flower, photographed at the Everglades Historic House and Garden, Leura (October 2016)


*


If you strip everything away — your identity, culture, self-perceptions, likes and dislikes — what is left?


Is there a core of love, kindness, contentedness? Or a core of hurts, regrets, sadnesses?


If the former, consider yourself truly blessed. If the latter, how can you heal and transform that core of yourself into something truly worthy?


I am not afraid to say that I am negotiating with my own hurts, regrets, and sadnesses, trying to move towards them with a gentle curiosity. It’s not easy, and I don’t really know how to do it, but what else can a living being do other than keep trying to move towards betterment?


I think that most of us are hurt in some way, wounded by the brutality of so-called ‘civilised life’, and all the little and large traumas — not just those we endure personally, but also those passed down, from generation to generation. 


We did not evolve to live like this.


So let’s be gentle with ourselves, and each other, for most of us are doing the best we can. And let’s begin to work towards healing one hurt at a time — stitching up, salving, singing over them — until our core selves become what they were always meant to be.


Rockrose (November 2020)

Words and images from my Instagram project @the_wild_nun

Thursday 17 December 2020

Our Lady of the Sea

Now there are three: 

Sky 
and Sea

Our Lady of the Sea, watercolours, gouache and acrylic paint on gesso prepared paper (2020)