Silent Retreats and Painting

This early morning, I'm sitting in front of my wood stove that has been burning non-stop this winter, as I look out onto a fresh blanket of snow in the woods behind my house. More snow is swirling through the branches and there's the promise of more to come.

It brings a profound silence that sound-absorbent layer of snow. I'm thinking about the power of silence and the Silent Retreat I did last weekend at Loyola House, the Jesuit Centre in Guelph, Ontario. There were nearly 50 others in the retreat. We had pleasantly cozy single rooms with carpeted floors, a desk, a sink and a big comfortable chair. We didn't speak at all for the weekend, not in hallways, by the fireplace in the lounge or at meals. Having the limitation of silence made time expand. The retreat centre holds a sense of the sacred, and there is something deeply profound about sharing that space with others in silence. The social conventions are gone-smiling and nodding at people in passing, engaging others in conversation, making small talk. Silence allows space in life.

In 2010, the BBC produced a film entitled The Big Silence. Five volunteers were invited on a journey into silence, led by Father Christopher Jamison at Worth Abbey in Sussex. They then went on to St. Beuno's abbey in North Wales for an 8-day silent retreat. Fr. Jamison's starting point is simple: "Many of the world's religions believe that there is one simple path that leads us toward God. This same path takes us to the very centre of who we are. It has been at the core of the Catholic mystical tradition for centuries. But outside religious settings, it has almost disappeared. It's called Silence." As a Benedictine monk he is steeped in the Catholic mystical tradition of the contemplative life, but he is convinced that everyone can benefit from sustained, regular periods of silence. “When we enter into periods of silence, we start to see things with greater clarity. We come to know ourselves, and come in touch with that deepest part of ourselves. That is our soul” The film follows the lives of the five retreatants before and after the retreat. The whole 12-part series can be seen on youtube.

I have done several silent home retreats over the years, where I stay home for a week, shutting off all forms of communication and spend the time painting, meditating, or writing. To read about one of them, click here. Being with others in a silent retreat at a Jesuit centre, had a different quality to it which encouraged deeper contemplation.

My weekend retreat was led by 81-year-old Bill Clarke, S.J., a Jesuit priest and a lovely gentle man who humanized bible stories, inviting us to go into them and meditate there. Other than four sessions with Bill during the weekend, our time was our own, to walk on the six hundred acres of land or to sit by the fire or in our rooms. Computers and cell phones were not permitted.

I spent my time walking, meditating and writing in my journal. Many ideas for my work and my life came to me when I allowed that quiet space for them to enter. I came home feeling nourished by the silence.

"All artists dream of a silence which they must enter, as some creatures return to the sea to spawn".
Iris Murdoch

Meet the Owners of a Scottish Castle

Anne Tristine Nguyen, Ali Orr Ewing, their children, Ava, Atticus and their dog, Harriet Beecher Stowe. Dunskey Estate, Portpatrick, Scotland Anne Tristine Nguyen and her husband, Alistair Orr Ewing are the owners of Dunskey Estate near Portpatrick, Scotland where I will teach a painting workshop in September. Dunskey is a splendid Edwardian castle on 2000 acres of ocean-front land with miles of walking trails. As well as daily workshop sessions in the studio on the top floor of the castle, our small group of artists will enjoy breathtaking hikes, superb accommodation and fabulous meals. Not having met owners of a castle before, I asked Anne if I could interview her to hear a little of their background story and that of the castle. Can you tell me a little of your personal story and that of your husband, Alistair Orr Ewing? Anne emigrated to America when she was ten years old, but it was at an art gallery in Saigon, her birthplace, where she met Al

The Importance of Silence in Art

Gathering Light 60x60" Oil on canvas © 2014 Janice Mason Steeves Michael David Rosenberg, the musician known as Passenger, sings, "See all I need is a whisper in a world that only shouts." In the workshops I teach, I find that one of the most common problems with paintings is that they shout. Most have too much going on: too many small shapes, too much texture, extremes of colour, too many lines, too much, too much. One thing I say most often as I walk around the classroom working with students individually, is 'make bigger shapes'. But not only bigger shapes. Quiet shapes. Where can your eye go and rest in the painting? That isn't a consideration in much of contemporary painting or much of contemporary life. Ours is a noisy world both visually and auditorily. Ours is a world that shouts. People are afraid of silence. I wrote a blog post 3 years ago about planning a retreat in my own home, where I shut off the computer and the phon

Lessons that Stone Walls Teach

Dry stone wall in the Burren, Co. Clare, Ireland I've just returned from teaching a Workshop in Wild Places class in the Burren in County Clare, Ireland. Writing this post, I'm reminded of another post I wrote after visiting Inishmaan, the middle of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland several years ago. Stone walls crisscrossed the island in tight webs like a fisherman's net. I wrote then that the web of stone walls made me think of the idea of putting limitations on our painting as a way of exploring more deeply and how walls give limits against the limitless. You can read that article here. As our group hiked in the Burren with our guide, Marie McGauran we learned that the walls are stronger because of the holes in them. The wind can pass through. The oldest stone walls, estimated to be 3500 years old are at Skara Brae, a Neolithic site in Orkney. Most walls were built in the 18th and 19th century, marking areas of private ownership and resulting in poverty

Janice Mason Steeves

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