Creativity and Conversations with Nature.

From the work of scientists like UBC's Suzanne Simard, among many others, we are learning more and more about the intelligence of the earth, how trees communicate with each other, and the myriad physical and creative benefits humans gain from spending time in nature.

An article in Outside, cites neuroscientist David Strayer’s research which has shown that our "prefrontal cortex is less active when we’re out in a natural environment. When the prefrontal cortex quiets down, the brain’s default mode network kicks in. Think of it as the imagination network: it’s activated when we’re not focusing on anything specific, and instead are allowing the mind to idly wander or to dip into our deep storehouse of memories, ideas, and emotions. When the ‘imagination network’ kicks in, sudden flashes of creative insight come to you. "

There are loads of benefits humans receive from nature. But what about a 2-way communication with the natural world?

In an article entitled Learning the Language of Nature, the author, Timothy Seekings describes an essay called Spirituality as Common Sense, written by Brother David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk. "In Steindl-Rast's view, common sense does not refer to rational thinking and problem solving in practical matters. Rather, it is comparable to the basic human senses such as sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch, which allow us to connect to the world around us.

Senses are not exclusive to humans either. All life connects to the surrounding world, and Steindl-Rast suggests that it does so through the common sense. As humans, we experience this common sense when we connect with animals, trees, or other living beings and experience moments of affinity and deep connectedness.

What if life has a common language? We know that all life shares a common code: DNA and RNA. But what if life has a common language of the senses, not a language based on a system of semiotics, but one based on a common sense, a language that we can understand in principle, perhaps through feeling?"

“The task is clear" says Seekings. "We have to become multilingual, and that means learning the lingua franca of the living planet. In the Anthropocene, our most pressing concern is to be able to hear and understand what she has to say, because we have been ignoring her messages for too long.”

Can we learn this lingua franca, gather together those feelings and sensations that we experience in nature and create abstract paintings from those experiences? We'll explore that in my upcoming workshop, Workshops in Wild Places Stays Home: Create abstract paintings from a deep connection with wild nature where you live. Please join me. For details and pricing, go to: janicemasonsteeves.com

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