This is the Place

My painting from 2000/2001 is now hanging at Lost Moth Gallery in Egg Harbor

This is the place where the land and water meet.  This is the place where the waves crash against your feet.  This is the place where shore greets sea.  This is the place where you become me.  
This is the place of diamonds and pearls.  This is where boys become girls.  Anything is possible, every dream is true.  This is the place where I become you.
This is the place of forest and sky.  You’re ready to live when you’re ready to die.  Love in between if you’re ready to cry.
This is where all weapons go to rust.  The place where anger turns to trust.  This is where night becomes your friend.  This is where your dream began.
If ever you are cast out with your fears.  Look them squarely with thy soul and it will bring you here.  Do not try to fight the waves of change.  Hang on tightly for your life and do not be afraid.
For this is the place where flight is made with broken wings.  This is the place where the mute swan sings.  This is how the question when becomes the question why.  This is where me becomes i.

In Life As In Art

In Life As in Art: Lessons from the Studio

William Blake

"Behemoth and Leviathan"

c. 1805 - 1810 

I love the paintings of William Blake.  I don't share his religious sensibilities, but when I look closely at them I share something beyond the literal interpretations, into the vision.

Many people will marvel at his work but dismiss his genius as fueled by insanity.

Sometimes I wonder if the greatest insanity is the compliant acceptance of the culture we live in and the restrictions it imposes on our vision.

Look at a Blake painting for a very long time.  The next time you look at a flower, look for a very long time.  Look at another person's face for a very long time.  

Apply the same thing to your thoughts.  The next time you are contemplating an issue, look at it from all angles, look at your emotions as they form themselves around your thoughts and move them from side to side, shifting their very essence into something new... more tangible perhaps.  Or more accessible, more palatable, more digestible.  We blind ourselves to the truth of our own existence and shrink ourselves to fit into a world that needs to keep us small and obedient.  And it is safer to stay small than to expand into a space we are unfamiliar with.

   "If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite."

                                                                                              William Blake  "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell"

Work in Progress from the Studio  (This one is mine)

There is a lot of insanity around us in this culture we live in.  And so little time to contemplate.  The Buddha told his followers not to believe what he said, but rather to go out and find the truth for themselves.

We find by searching, we see by looking, not for what we already know, but for what we haven't known yet.  And that takes a lot of time, an excruciatingly long look without turning away.  

Old thoughts need to be released in order for new thoughts to arise, and when we hold onto our beliefs and opinions we don't see what is before us.

The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind.

                                                                                                   William Blake "A Memorable Fancy"

In life as in art, the experience is entirely up to us.  It just depends on how long you are willing to look and how wide you are willing to see.  The possibilites are infinite.  

The Healing Power of Art: To Look Without Turning Away

Painting in Progress.  The Escape is becoming a new painting.  I'm still not sure  of the new title.

I posted my last post ten days ago.  It began with the phrase "Victim no More,"  and when I wrote it I knew that would happen, but I didn't know how.  As I move along, I have learned if I try very hard to be honest with myself, my actions will continue to lead me in a direction that helps me to be the best I can be.  It is a destination that is far from the attainment of perfection; it may never lead to material success, and it will not make everyone like me.  What I do believe is that unflinching honesty to oneself is the only reliable guide in a fluid, ever-changing approach to life without a roadmap.

Sounds simple, but it's been the most challenging approach to life that I have found.  And it is the most rewarding,  if what you're striving for is to feel fully alive and present in your own life.

Anyone who read my previous post knows I recently opened up and told my own personal story.  As a survivor of a very violent and traumatic relationship in my early 20's I have struggled to regain my strength and power throughout my adult life.  Painting has been a vital tool that has helped me to understand my subconscious thoughts and suppressed feelings, and communicate them first to myself and finally, to my family, friends, acquaintances and even strangers.

There have been consequences to telling my story.  There was immediate retaliation from my abuser, in the form of comments.  I have been feeling exposed, both emotionally and physically.  Many of my fears have surfaced, not only in my painting, but in my life.

Facing my fears one by one and looking at them  long enough to understand them completely.

In the center of the painting I have discovered my fears, as each one unfolds.  I have been afraid of being physically harmed.  Being verbally attacked in such a public way by my abuser was not something I predicted, but it has always been a threat and a fear.  I was afraid I would be seen as a weak person for having even been in an abusive relationship.  (I was afraid I would be judged in so many ways.)    I was afraid of remembering what I have pushed aside.  I was afraid of so many regrets.   I felt ashamed, scared and anxious, but I wrote down my story and I posted it publicly.  And the fallout has been huge; for ten days every single one of those fears has sat down in front of me and beckoned to be seen. 

As I painted the visual manifestations of my fears I felt each one acutely.  I tried to see them through to their worst case scenario.   It was exhausting, but they are losing their power over me.  I am seeing the strength in vulnerability, the courage in taking chances and the power in honesty.  I have begun to realize that certainty is an illusion sought out by fear.  I have also learned that fear cannot be escaped by running or hiding.  As I paint, I literally FACE MY FEARS.  And they become known to me, and I regain power over each one.

      In order fully own our own lives we must fully participate.  To do this well we must
have boundaries, and our boundaries are our own to define and defend.

Boundaries have always been an issue for me.  I would venture to guess anyone who has been in a relationship where they were physically violated has boundary issues.  But just as challenging for me are emotional and psychological boundaries.  In the past few years I have begun to realize and assert boundaries, often with very little grace and a lot of clumsiness.  It's a learning period.  I intellectually understood my abuser had no right to contact me, by phone, email or Facebook comments.  But in order to emotionally understand that truth I had to feel my own boundaries.  This took time.  When I began to publicly tell my story I took a quantum leap in boundary setting and my balance was very shaky at first.

Fortunately for me I have had a few really strong foundations in place.  I have a solid relationship with a supportive partner who understands me.  I have friends who cheer me on, even if we have moved to different places and rarely see each other.  I have family members who support my choices with respect and love.  And I feel more and more safe.  Safety is never guaranteed,  but I am secure in my preparation and planning for what I consider "worst case scenarios."  If I felt isolated, alone or ill prepared, I would not have told my story.  Speaking out can, at times, be dangerous.  Each person must decide carefully.  It is not realistic to think it is always the right thing to do, but when the time is right, it is a choice that can give victims ownership of their lives.  That is what it has done for me.

Returning to my own life I weep tears for the times I have been emotionally absent.
There is a bittersweet blend of sadness and hope in seeing your life with clarity. 

Although I am learning that my boundaries can enable me to be vulnerable in many areas of my life, up until now I used the creative process to feel things fully and give those feelings and experiences form.  This has been my lifeline.  It is one of the most valuable things I have to offer from my life.  I know how to tap into emotions I have vaulted up and left in darkness, experience them in the present and give them symbolic form with line, colors and shapes.  A lifetime of thinking through pictures is now making so much sense.  It has led me to where I am, and I am excited to continue discovering what there is to be known in this life, through the visions in my paintings.

Back at the Easel

Work in Progress: "The Three Graces Revised"  Mixed media on cast fabric

     After an eight day trip to visit with my daughter I am back in the studio, refreshed and inspired.  There's something magical and mysterious that happens when I approach a new painting, or return to one after time away.  When I return to the easel I have a moment (or many) when I wonder if I will be able to paint anything at all.  

     It reminds me of struggling to look into a "Magic Eye" poster and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't see the hidden images that were supposed to be there.  Remember those?  One day it clicked and I stopped trying to see anything and there they were, the dinosaurs silently hiding out in a field of sunflowers...  Or when you can't remember the name of a movie, but when you're driving home thinking about what to make for dinner... there it is, "Soylent Green" creeps into your brain, acting like it was always there.  Sure you can dismiss this as a right brain/left brain switch... but just because a college class gave me words to describe what to me is one of my life's greatest miracles doesn't mean I'm going to stop marveling.   It feels like more.  It feels a lot like the moment you realize you really do love someone because when they need you to let them go, you can, and you do.  

     The process of creating is a process of letting go.  Nothing can enter your conscious or subconscious mind until you make room for it.  Have an idea?  Grab onto it, hold it in your mind for awhile and let it rest there, and let it go.  What you will create is not the idea, it is the product of the idea.  It is your mind's child, and while you may have a lot of input into the development of your child, every parent knows we have to let them grow to be themselves.  Intuition is a vine, a root system in the air searching for the sediment of the spirit to feed it.  Every time I approach the easel this alchemic process occurs, the paint sits on the brush and waits for the signals that come from a space that I can't see or know any other way except this way.  My past lessons and practice inform every choice, deciding how much pressure to exert, how much paint to load, when to start and stop each mark, but the marks themselves come from a place beyond language and beyond my these thoughts.

     One of the greatest revelries I experience in my life is the reoccurrence of this magical moment, when I think, "Maybe that's it, maybe I have nothing left to paint.  Then I approach the easel and the vine of intuition starts winding itself around me, the easel, the painting, the room.  It is as close to an ecstatic moment as I'll probably ever have, or at least have had up to this point.  It is the feeling that there is a force larger than me and it can be trusted.  I end up saying to friends, "When I'm painting everything makes sense to me."  I'm not sure if the sentence even begins to explain the experience, words always fall short for me.  And that's why I paint.