Visited by Awe

Sometimes there is another presence at work when we make art. Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, Big Magic, calls it "eudaimonia", a word coined by the Greeks meaning an external daemon of creativity. All artists feel this at one time or another. Call it the muse, or an angel or a spirit guide or flow. It doesn't happen for me all the time. But that creative presence has definitely visited me. I remember early on in my painting career when I made a painting that was far above my ability at the time. Of course, I painted it, but there was a sense that I couldn't have. I remember the first time it happened. The painting painted itself very quickly and confidently and when I stood back, I was shocked. Something magical had happened! At first my ego puffed up and took full credit. Only trouble was, I couldn't repeat that feat. It took another year or so for me to bring my paintings up to that level. A similar visitation occurred sometime later. Yet another year passed by where I worked hard in order to be able to paint like that on a consistent basis. I realized that these paintings were gifts. They showed me what's possible. I still have that happen, where breakthrough paintings occur that point me in a new direction, help me think new thoughts.

The creative daemon quite often visits my workshops. I see her presence when a student quickly does a painting that is beyond the level of their current work. It's like everything has suddenly clicked into place. She often arrives through play or when the artist isn't trying so hard. Often the student doesn't even realize that they've been visited. I might point it out, but they don't always believe me. Acknowledging her is important. It encourages her to come back and helps an artist realize that there's some magic happening.

"The Romans," Gilbert writes, called this daemon "your genius––your guardian diety". She goes on to say that "the Romans didn't believe that an exceptionally gifted person was a genius; they believed that an exceptionally gifted person had a genius." This distinction Gilbert writes, "helps to keep the artist's ego in check, distancing him somewhat from the burden of taking either full credit or full blame for the outcome of his work."

I don't have a formula for inviting him/her in, this genius. Most often I just show up in my studio and keep painting. The creative daemon will find me there if she's looking for me. I might try to hold her when she comes but she's slippery that daemon and can leave as quickly as she arrived.

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

Liminal Time

The word liminal comes from the Latin, limen meaning threshold. an in-between place, a place of transition, a time of waiting and not knowing. Dawn and dusk are considered liminal places. Crepuscular animals, like foxes and coyotes are most active at this time of day, a time that is considered a magical time in Celtic spirituality and to Indigenous people which is perhaps the origin of their designation as tricksters. As I write this, the northern hemisphere has just passed the vernal equinox, where day and night are of equal length.We are in a liminal space between winter and spring right now, unsure if we will have one more storm or snowfall before spring finally settles in. We're also in a liminal place as we live through this pandemic with the anxiety and discomfort of not knowing. A time of great transition for the entire world, wondering what we've learned from this and what lessons we'll carry forward. Author and Franciscan friar Richard Rohr describes limi

Janice Mason Steeves

Search This Blog

Visited by Awe

Labels

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Meet the Owners of a Scottish Castle

The Importance of Silence in Art

Liminal Time