It's been a while since last I posted - almost two months - but I haven't been idle. I've been working on various projects: a book design for a client, a couple of commissioned artworks, several YouTube videos, and some experimentation with linocuts.
But while all these activities chugged along, at another level I've been in transition - between seasons, if you will - and it's appropriate, given that here in Australia, we're emerging from the cocoon of Winter into the volatility of Spring.
Unseasonably warm weather alternates with chilly days, dry spells with torrential rains and gale-force winds. I've felt in sympathy with this instability, as it mirrored my own restlessness.
What was happening? What was pushing upward through the layers of my subconscious, asking to be born?
I wandered through the parklands where I live, observing Nature and appreciating its resonances; here, a lily pond, its waters partially obscured by a swirling mixture of pollen and algae, emulating the tension between confusion and clarity of thought.
Nearby, the ocean, leaden beneath lowering stormclouds, reflected the lurking feeling of dissatisfaction with much of my work and my frustration as I wrestled with bouts of ill-health. The sun, temporarily obscured, nonetheless cast its brilliance upon the surface of the waters, perhaps signalling a feeling of cautious optimism and the almost-visible glimmers of insight teasing at the edges of my mind.
I needed to discern the source of this restlessness, so, instead of over-analysing (my usual method of tackling intransigent problems) I elected simply to sit with it and allow it to speak to me in its own time. And speak, it finally did.
I found myself asking 'what am I doing with my art? with my writing? with my music? What am I contributing to make this world a kinder, or happier, or better place?'
I need to create, but I want much more.
I'm in the fortunate situation of not relying on my creative output for my livelihood. Just as well, or, like many artists, I'd undoubtedly starve. So, I have the luxury of choice. This is an inestimable gift, and one not to be taken lightly. I am not wealthy, but nor am I poor, so I have a responsibility to use what gifts I have to create some small measure of goodness in this world.
Suddenly, the clouds seemed to clear, and I felt lighter, as though the morning sun had smiled at me through the lace curtains of my bedroom.
I think my work has been trending in this direction for some time, but it needed to become a conscious process - a kind of manifesto, if you will.
How often do we find ourselves engaged in a practice which seems unstructured, unfocused, until we engage the power of naming?
So I named it: Creativity as a spiritual path.
That's it, in essence.
I want to offer solace to a world in pain.
I want to create music which soothes anxiety and gives the heart rest.
I want to share my journey with others, through poetry and memoir, so they will know they are not alone.
I want my art to reflect the beauty of the world - the soul of the world, the anima mundi.
Lofty ambitions? No, not at all. Any offering I make will be insignificant in the scheme of things. But if we all add our own small measure to the common good, imagine what changes can occur.
I hope you will continue to travel with me as we discover where the journey leads me.
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