When I think of my art, it feels lonely and explosive but unreal. It’s like someone else is creating it. And I don’t know how to make the artist in me reconcile with all of the other parts of me. I don’t know how to infuse myself with the confidence and audacity to show up the way that I long to. My art practice feels both like something and like nothing. It feels sacred but also completely ordinary. I survived for years without creating anything. It was such a hopeless way to exist, in my experience. I know I’ll survive if I stop creating — but I’m not sure I want to live my life that way.
Another piece I can hardly reconcile is this mind, body and soul of mine with the little girl who spent years of her life trying to imagine a denser patch of woods down the street. There was never enough adventure. She was always longing, always wanting. The suffering could be tasted, but it was also invented. I hold the softest spot in my heart for her. She used movies and books to make sense of the world around her. A lonely existence in a small slice of the Midwest.
What if we stop to look at the pattern in the concrete as the pieces break away with age? I would long for discoveries more ancient and meaningful, but perhaps we could recognize that the degradation of this man-made foundation is also quite exquisite. It’s a living example of something dying right before our eyes. The hopes of a neighborhood forgotten, places untended.
I keep trying to make it all be something and mean more but perhaps it’s enough to experience it as it happens and then let it go.
Go outside. Find a pattern within something — either natural or manmade. Draw the pattern in your journal. It doesn’t have to make sense. You’ll feel better. Less frantic. The world will feel more enchanted, yet nothing will have changed. You will be in your body.
From my journal that day, after this exercise:
Now I am in my body, and I feel the breeze on my face. My hair is longer than usual, blows across it but my hands know that moving it behind my ear is futile. Someone is mowing and the kids are making a contraption with their toys. I made them move it to the patio so the lawn can be mowed. The dog wakes up and the kids are excited to show her.
All I can say is, when you wake up, you start to notice things…the air becomes electric. Poetry starts to flow from our veins. I pick words like flowers on these summer mornings, appreciating my ability to do so now.
News
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Art for a Spell, the art witch community created by Meghann, had a Solstice Party! This includes 5 pre-recorded lessons and a recording of the live zoom session. Price for this bundle is $18. Buy Solstice Party bundle
I would love love LOVE if you all would share what content you enjoy seeing from me the most, and what you’d love to see more of. As I shared, I am a dynamic creative person with many varied interests. I want to share in a way that feels good for me, but is also in service to those who read it. Thanks for the feedback!
**I’ve received some excellent book recommendations lately! I am thinking I may try to compile a list.** I’d love to start reading more books about artists, specifically abstract artists. Can you leave me some recommendations in the comments? I also enjoy books about creative practice, and the intersection of creativity and spirituality. I am slowly making my way (still) through The Artist’s Way. Perhaps I will share as I read about these different creative geniuses.
I was a host artist for this years’ free Messy May art challenge from Get Messy! It’s never too late to start! The challenge is free. If you are inspired by this community of creativity, consider becoming a member here. You can watch the flip through of my completed Messy May journal here.
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