When I was in high school and college and took art classes, nothing terrified me more than critiques. I would rather have died than had my work put up next to that of my classmates (who, I was convinced, were innately and infinitely more talented than I was) and talked about.
Consequently, I did my best to get sick on those days, to stay up too late the night before and then fall asleep in class, or just to mentally check out and not pay attention.
When I graduated with a degree in apparel design, I never did put together a proper portfolio with which to apply for jobs, and actually never applied for any design jobs--I was THAT scared of my work being seen and found wanting. I was happier to apply for jobs involving menial, robot-like tasks, and spent years doing this--even after it began to take a toll on my body, mind, and spirit. I didn't think I had any choice. I felt I had already been somehow proven unfit for creative work, and would need to live out my life on the sidelines, forgetting the dreams I once had.
I can understand the need for harsh critiques as part of the education process. We need to develop our ability to stand up to criticism and integrate it to better ourselves and our work. We also need to be able to decide when NOT to integrate the criticism, when it would weaken our vision rather than strengthening it.
Yet I am still, firmly, an advocate of everyone's fundamental right to make as much bad art as they would like. Bad art serves two very interesting functions: as practice for the artist, and as a mode of soul healing. Most of us have seen the self-indulgent, angsty artwork of teenagers--and I'm the first to admit it, I feel I never left that stage. That work serves an important purpose for the person making it, and it is an unavoidable stage in their development, like falling down when learning to walk.
Now I don't have any readers here, but I imagine that when I do, many of them will be similarly wounded adults seeking to rediscover their own creative and artistic abilities while also having to make a living and do all those other adult things of which we are justifiably proud. It will be important for such individuals to find enough courage within themselves to break whatever patterns of social conditioning have kept them walking in circles over unfulfilling terrain, and I believe making bad art will be an integral part of many individual and collective revolutions.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Song of Linmayu in the Concrete Jungle
Here's the first poem in my series about work...it feels somewhat frustrating as there's nothing concrete in it to tell me what I should be actually DOING. (Yet.) I believe it is important to keep the faith that such revelations will come in time.
Can you feel the heartbeat of the earth
through layers of concrete and rock, glass and steel, roads and skyscrapers?
Can you hear the voice of the wind
through the endless buzzing of the radio and TV and cell phone waves?
Can you listen to the voice of your own calling
through the millions of voices around you, each telling you that they have the way, and so can you if you sign on the dotted line,
that they know what's best for you, and you need only do as they say?
I am a woman who walks in this nonliving jungle, who feels the concentration of its harsh energy beating and stabbing at her core, and also feels the lightness of the city's life and joy bubbling up from within like an unexpected, undiscovered source of spring water.
I am a woman who feels the contrast.
I ride the waves that originate from within, I do not know where they will lead me.
I am here, alive, just one tiny voice in the infinite cacophony...
yet a voice is still a voice, no matter how quiet,
and a life is still a life, no matter how small.
Can you feel the heartbeat of the earth
through layers of concrete and rock, glass and steel, roads and skyscrapers?
Can you hear the voice of the wind
through the endless buzzing of the radio and TV and cell phone waves?
Can you listen to the voice of your own calling
through the millions of voices around you, each telling you that they have the way, and so can you if you sign on the dotted line,
that they know what's best for you, and you need only do as they say?
I am a woman who walks in this nonliving jungle, who feels the concentration of its harsh energy beating and stabbing at her core, and also feels the lightness of the city's life and joy bubbling up from within like an unexpected, undiscovered source of spring water.
I am a woman who feels the contrast.
I ride the waves that originate from within, I do not know where they will lead me.
I am here, alive, just one tiny voice in the infinite cacophony...
yet a voice is still a voice, no matter how quiet,
and a life is still a life, no matter how small.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Art therapy and the Puritan work ethic
I have been reading Maps to Ecstasy by Gabrielle Roth; it was part of the required reading for the shamanic training program that I'm currently enrolled in. The first paragraph of the book jumped off the page and directly into my mind:
In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask you one of four questions: When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
For years I have lamented this fact of modern American society: We do not dance or sing; we pay other people to do it for us, deeming ourselves "not good enough," and holding them to an impossible standard. Yes, a lot of amazing, beautiful work comes out of this, and it may well be "better" than what the average person who must work for a living can produce--but I feel that this separation often sucks the soul out of the art, the artist, and the audience. When I graduated from college, I briefly contemplated a career as a professional belly dancer, and quickly realized that performing in restaurants, using only the music that the clientele wanted to hear, and letting skeevy men put dollar bills in my clothing would destroy my love for the dance itself. And countless others sit in the audience, watching the performance, wishing they could be up there but feeling like they can't because they are too young or too old or the wrong gender or don't have a model's body. It's not a winning situation for anyone.
We do not tell stories, we do not find enchantment in them. We watch Hollywood movies and TV shows, and expertly analyze and judge the plotlines. These days we don't even watch shows with a plot, preferring this strange new phenomenon called reality TV. And in the constant noise of the TV and Internet--we can be entertained 24 hours a day if we want--there is no time for silence, and we're judged as strange for even wanting to unplug for a while.
This all adds up to a loss of soul, both on an individual and a collective scale--which we call "mental illness." Once we can get a diagnosis of depression, we can then see a therapist for help (after our doctor checks us out so that it can be covered on our health insurance)--and then, they may give us happy pills, or they may have us do art therapy, music therapy, dance therapy. Just as physical illness often forces us to slow down and take a rest from our busy careers, mental illness can give us the permission to sing and dance and make art and reconnect with our creative spirits. It's only OK to be creative if some authority who knows better is MAKING us do it.
I firmly believe that if we lived in a world where we honored our souls enough to make time for creativity, we would not have such a great need for psychotherapists and pharmaceuticals. I want to live in that world and I don't think I'm the only one.
In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask you one of four questions: When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
For years I have lamented this fact of modern American society: We do not dance or sing; we pay other people to do it for us, deeming ourselves "not good enough," and holding them to an impossible standard. Yes, a lot of amazing, beautiful work comes out of this, and it may well be "better" than what the average person who must work for a living can produce--but I feel that this separation often sucks the soul out of the art, the artist, and the audience. When I graduated from college, I briefly contemplated a career as a professional belly dancer, and quickly realized that performing in restaurants, using only the music that the clientele wanted to hear, and letting skeevy men put dollar bills in my clothing would destroy my love for the dance itself. And countless others sit in the audience, watching the performance, wishing they could be up there but feeling like they can't because they are too young or too old or the wrong gender or don't have a model's body. It's not a winning situation for anyone.
We do not tell stories, we do not find enchantment in them. We watch Hollywood movies and TV shows, and expertly analyze and judge the plotlines. These days we don't even watch shows with a plot, preferring this strange new phenomenon called reality TV. And in the constant noise of the TV and Internet--we can be entertained 24 hours a day if we want--there is no time for silence, and we're judged as strange for even wanting to unplug for a while.
This all adds up to a loss of soul, both on an individual and a collective scale--which we call "mental illness." Once we can get a diagnosis of depression, we can then see a therapist for help (after our doctor checks us out so that it can be covered on our health insurance)--and then, they may give us happy pills, or they may have us do art therapy, music therapy, dance therapy. Just as physical illness often forces us to slow down and take a rest from our busy careers, mental illness can give us the permission to sing and dance and make art and reconnect with our creative spirits. It's only OK to be creative if some authority who knows better is MAKING us do it.
I firmly believe that if we lived in a world where we honored our souls enough to make time for creativity, we would not have such a great need for psychotherapists and pharmaceuticals. I want to live in that world and I don't think I'm the only one.
Is it ever, really, about the money?
I believe the Law of Attraction works best when we first listen within us to find out what it is our soul really wants. I can't count the number of times I've tried to use it to bring in X number of dollars by Y date and my heart wasn't in it--for me it's not really about the money.
This feeling of "it's not about the money" comes to me even more strongly when I think of my work situation. I recently started working at Life Force Arts Center on a volunteer/work exchange basis, and now suddenly I'm the assistant director. (If you're in Chicago, definitely come by the center; we have a lot of really awesome things planned including a Spring Equinox ritual with a live alligator who is also a healer! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried; it's that cool.) This move is quite possibly the greatest thing that's ever happened in my work life, and yet, I still need to keep my other job in order to eat.
I want to make my living with the same kind of passion that I have for my work at LFAC. And this means that I will, most likely, eventually have to leave the very comfortable position that I now have, with a company that just this past week decided to make an investment in training me for a more responsible position.
Things are falling out of the sky for me this year, in terms of work. I am also doing 9 dresses for a good friend's wedding next June, and will start that work this June. I feel sorry that I wasn't ever in this happy, fulfilled working situation when I was married--our problems might then have been lessened. Who knows, though? As Penny says in Dr. Horrible, "Everything happens."
So what I want to create is a fulfilling way to make my living, doing work on the artistic and spiritual side of the world ALL THE TIME. Or *almost* all the time. After all, I am beginning to have a better understanding of the financial industry, and this can' t be a bad thing. I also want to create a situation where I truly come into the full power of whatever innate and learned talents I have, so that I can use them for the betterment of my employers, clients, and humanity--whoever they end up being.
That is the intention. It's only a matter of time before the beginnings of its artistic expression drops into my head; watch this space for updates.
This feeling of "it's not about the money" comes to me even more strongly when I think of my work situation. I recently started working at Life Force Arts Center on a volunteer/work exchange basis, and now suddenly I'm the assistant director. (If you're in Chicago, definitely come by the center; we have a lot of really awesome things planned including a Spring Equinox ritual with a live alligator who is also a healer! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried; it's that cool.) This move is quite possibly the greatest thing that's ever happened in my work life, and yet, I still need to keep my other job in order to eat.
I want to make my living with the same kind of passion that I have for my work at LFAC. And this means that I will, most likely, eventually have to leave the very comfortable position that I now have, with a company that just this past week decided to make an investment in training me for a more responsible position.
Things are falling out of the sky for me this year, in terms of work. I am also doing 9 dresses for a good friend's wedding next June, and will start that work this June. I feel sorry that I wasn't ever in this happy, fulfilled working situation when I was married--our problems might then have been lessened. Who knows, though? As Penny says in Dr. Horrible, "Everything happens."
So what I want to create is a fulfilling way to make my living, doing work on the artistic and spiritual side of the world ALL THE TIME. Or *almost* all the time. After all, I am beginning to have a better understanding of the financial industry, and this can' t be a bad thing. I also want to create a situation where I truly come into the full power of whatever innate and learned talents I have, so that I can use them for the betterment of my employers, clients, and humanity--whoever they end up being.
That is the intention. It's only a matter of time before the beginnings of its artistic expression drops into my head; watch this space for updates.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Call #10
Well, here you go. The series has reached its logical end point--a healthy, stable, monogamous, committed relationship that feels a certain way. Now the question--will this play out in real life? And if it does, what happens if he reads this? Will he flip out?
I figure, I want to be with someone who can handle it. Someone who's not going to freak out at the fact that--oh my God--I have this shocking desire to be in a healthy relationship. I mean, it's a desire that is common to most people, so why should anyone be ashamed of it?
The way it is with Makani is like this
there is always the mystery between us.
There is never any doubt that he is mine and I am his
Yet the secrets of his heart are his own to keep.
And he does not pry into mine. Yet he seeks to know me, completely, the woman I am now.
I figure, I want to be with someone who can handle it. Someone who's not going to freak out at the fact that--oh my God--I have this shocking desire to be in a healthy relationship. I mean, it's a desire that is common to most people, so why should anyone be ashamed of it?
The way it is with Makani is like this
there is always the mystery between us.
There is never any doubt that he is mine and I am his
Yet the secrets of his heart are his own to keep.
And he does not pry into mine. Yet he seeks to know me, completely, the woman I am now.
The Call #9
.
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
his strong arms reach heavenwards
I bend and sway gently in the breeze
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
you think I weep but it is the overflowing of the abundance of my joy
you think he is immovable but in the night his branches reach out for mine
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
two completely different trees we are
yet joined, inseparably, nonetheless
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
his strong arms reach heavenwards
I bend and sway gently in the breeze
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
you think I weep but it is the overflowing of the abundance of my joy
you think he is immovable but in the night his branches reach out for mine
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
two completely different trees we are
yet joined, inseparably, nonetheless
The Call #6
This is my favorite poem in the series because he finally shows up! I get a mental image of a tall, weathered, dark-haired man, walking and singing. I feel somewhat embarrassed to be so excited about something I wrote--but that's the whole point! It *should* make you feel something. It doesn't need to make anyone else feel anything--that is the difference between creation artwork and artwork produced for others. I wonder if any actual guy would think like this--but it produces the right feeling in me.
I am as old as the hills
and it does not matter.
I have the wellspring of vitality within.
I have within me what you need.
All I have, I lay at your graceful feet,
I reach within myself and bring it forth for you,
it is my greatest pleasure to give it to you.
Only let me enter by the gates of your lush garden.
Let me drink the pure spring water from your overflowing well.
Let me find rest in your warm embrace, sanctuary in your arms, nourishment in your breasts.
I am as old as the hills
and it does not matter.
I have the wellspring of vitality within.
I have within me what you need.
All I have, I lay at your graceful feet,
I reach within myself and bring it forth for you,
it is my greatest pleasure to give it to you.
Only let me enter by the gates of your lush garden.
Let me drink the pure spring water from your overflowing well.
Let me find rest in your warm embrace, sanctuary in your arms, nourishment in your breasts.
The Call #5
A hundred gentle breezes
A hundred little loving spirits
They are all around me
All around me, smiling at me
Letting me know I'm on the right path.
A hundred beautiful men blown into my life on the wind
A hundred beautiful moments, a wink, a smile, a nod
A hundred feeling memories to hold in the corners of my mind
I feel his presence, behind the men, wooing me, teasing me, reassuring me.
He's just on the other side of the veil.
A hundred little loving spirits
They are all around me
All around me, smiling at me
Letting me know I'm on the right path.
A hundred beautiful men blown into my life on the wind
A hundred beautiful moments, a wink, a smile, a nod
A hundred feeling memories to hold in the corners of my mind
I feel his presence, behind the men, wooing me, teasing me, reassuring me.
He's just on the other side of the veil.
The Call #4
I know I'm not the best poet out there. When we create this kind of artwork, the technical perfection of the work matters less than the feelings and emotions it evokes within US. The work is created for ourselves more than for others--it is created as a means of working with the Law of Attraction and our own individual desires. There are no rules for this kind of creation--and we are each our own authority.
An unknown spirit rushes in like a gust of wind to embrace me
and I feel completely consumed, swept up in the fire of his passion
I melt into a flowing fountain and the garden within bursts into bloom
An unknown spirit rushes in like a gust of wind to embrace me
and I feel completely consumed, swept up in the fire of his passion
I melt into a flowing fountain and the garden within bursts into bloom
The Call #3
Descending
Chakra 7
an obelisk in a circular pool
water cascading down the sides, smoothly, steadily
clearest water that ever flowed.
bluest sky, brightest sun
a lush flower garden and a city on the horizon
Chakra 6
deepest indigo violet curtains on the interior wall
darkness, silence, blue flame.
the voice of the Big She can be heard, softly, in a whisper.
Chakra 5
A song, high, clear, the sound of a crystal bell
rainbow prisms, sparkling light
breath carries the voice over the wind, over the meadow
to the ears of those who are called to hear.
Chakra 4
The fountain is warm, the temperature of blood
the sunshine warm, the fire warm
expansion effortless
touching gently, bouncing off lightly, laughter, bubbles
Chakra 3
The fierce Me leaps from the crumbling earth to a higher ground that is also in free fall. Quick, decisive leaps. Sure foot. Sure heart.
Chakra 2
Fire rages, lava flows.
A water wheel turns forever.
Here stands the eternal windmill that powers all creation.
Chakra 1
black. white. bang.
I AM.
i am not.
Chakra 7
an obelisk in a circular pool
water cascading down the sides, smoothly, steadily
clearest water that ever flowed.
bluest sky, brightest sun
a lush flower garden and a city on the horizon
Chakra 6
deepest indigo violet curtains on the interior wall
darkness, silence, blue flame.
the voice of the Big She can be heard, softly, in a whisper.
Chakra 5
A song, high, clear, the sound of a crystal bell
rainbow prisms, sparkling light
breath carries the voice over the wind, over the meadow
to the ears of those who are called to hear.
Chakra 4
The fountain is warm, the temperature of blood
the sunshine warm, the fire warm
expansion effortless
touching gently, bouncing off lightly, laughter, bubbles
Chakra 3
The fierce Me leaps from the crumbling earth to a higher ground that is also in free fall. Quick, decisive leaps. Sure foot. Sure heart.
Chakra 2
Fire rages, lava flows.
A water wheel turns forever.
Here stands the eternal windmill that powers all creation.
Chakra 1
black. white. bang.
I AM.
i am not.
The Call #2
A garden within
in the center of the universe
a clear, overflowing fountain
centered in a courtyard of low-hanging trees
nymphs dance among the trees with wild abandon
eyes open wide, I surrender
in the center of the universe
a clear, overflowing fountain
centered in a courtyard of low-hanging trees
nymphs dance among the trees with wild abandon
eyes open wide, I surrender
The Call #1
The Call
I am a clear pool, deep and still
beneath my waters a wild garden grows
seaweed and lotus, goldfish and koi
gold, rubies, and emeralds--thrown into the sparkling water one day long ago
Leave your clothes hanging over a low branch of the oak tree
Step in slowly, feel the cool wetness gliding gently over your bare feet
I am a clear pool, deep and still
beneath my waters a wild garden grows
seaweed and lotus, goldfish and koi
gold, rubies, and emeralds--thrown into the sparkling water one day long ago
Leave your clothes hanging over a low branch of the oak tree
Step in slowly, feel the cool wetness gliding gently over your bare feet
Using creativity to create our lives
Someday I'll tell the full story of how I discovered the powerful impact my own creativity has had on my life. To make a long story short, I wrote fragments of a story in high school and college, and then forgot about them. Ten years later, I realized that I had lived out that story, complete with its depressing ending.
When I thought about it in the context of the Law of Attraction, it made perfect sense. I had an irrationally powerful emotional attachment to the story and its characters--more so than to anything in real life. In a way, I was in love with the story--and the emotion of being in love is the most powerful catalyst for creation in existence.
It became clear that I needed to write some new stories. This blog will serve as a home for them, a cauldron in which their alchemy can take place.
When I thought about it in the context of the Law of Attraction, it made perfect sense. I had an irrationally powerful emotional attachment to the story and its characters--more so than to anything in real life. In a way, I was in love with the story--and the emotion of being in love is the most powerful catalyst for creation in existence.
It became clear that I needed to write some new stories. This blog will serve as a home for them, a cauldron in which their alchemy can take place.
This, here, is it.
This is the deepest place, the well of creation. This is the place where creation takes place.
I believe creativity is a tool given to us as humans--given to all of us, not just a select few. Given to us not just for the purpose of making pretty things, but for the purpose of actually shaping our lives--and shaping the world we live in.
We have that power.
How we use it is up to us.
I believe creativity is a tool given to us as humans--given to all of us, not just a select few. Given to us not just for the purpose of making pretty things, but for the purpose of actually shaping our lives--and shaping the world we live in.
We have that power.
How we use it is up to us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
