I live in one of the most stressful regions of the country, and yet it is also the Art Capital of the world. Here I am, artist by name, insurance agent by profession, and by practice a witch. I'm the busiest I've ever been. Yesterday in the mail I got a copy of the Pratt Institute's catalog. I am afraid to look within at the amazing layouts of art in process.
I just read a blog post from Lauren Raine. A goddess woman and artist whom I look up to. http://threadsofspiderwoman.blogspot.com/2009/09/reflections.htmlHer art is fabulous and her commentary suddenly slammed me back into my artist self.
Art was a part of my magick, part of my magickal process and journey. It was tied to it all and how I communed with my Muses and Gods. Something happened in undergrad as art became critiqued asignments and one more way to excell. I became cut off from my artist and depressed. Since college I have struggled with the practice and the "whys" of art.
I had a beautiful dream last night of looking into a stone surrounded well or pool of purple water with white lotuses floating in it. It would make a perfect painting. It would be good to go into the regions of my younger self, the below, the underworld to commune in that place. What right to I have not to share that?
Art can create beauty, evoke inspiration, peace, hope. One of my favorite paintings is one in the National Museum called hope. There is a woman in a voluminous gown and the dawn in bright pink hues behind her. She is my Dawn Messenger of Hope.
If I connect with God it is not about approval, critiquing, or what society has to say about it. There is nothing too personal, to private, to magickal or sacred to share. It is my duty to share these images.
There is the yellow brick road gleaming ahead of me. The sun has arisen and I will never turn away from it. There is as much change as I will allow.
To be continued...
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