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"The Work of Art": A New Blog

When I began painting in June, 2003, at age 52, I had little idea what I was getting into or why. I wasn’t looking for a hobby or retirement pastime; beyond a general art appreciation, I had no particular interest in art and no conscious desire to make it. Further, I didn’t believe I had any talent.

My art-making history: In my early 20s I’d tried weaving, but gave it up after several years; it was boring and working on a loom was tough on my back. Then, while working as an R.N. in Intensive Care and recovering from a divorce, I spent a year in a figure drawing class at the University of Montana. There I received the high marks the instructor gave my drawings with a grain of salt: I was convinced he was not really evaluating my work but hitting on me instead. After that I signed on with another instructor for an oil painting class but I didn’t like his gruff manner and after 3 weeks I stopped going. For the next 20 years, I made the occasional drawing in a travel journal and that was that.

In October of 2002, however, I experienced a sort of epiphany. No longer a nurse, I was now transitioning out of my second career as an ordained Unity minister. I’d resigned my post as spiritual leader of a church I’d pioneered and was working in an unofficial capacity as an advocate for a group of women who in 1962, along with me, had been molested by a priest in Marietta, Georgia.

More history: In January of 2001, after an exposé of Catholic clergy sexual abuse aired on “60 Minutes,” I’d given my story (much like those recounted in the Academy Award-winning Best Picture, “Spotlight”) to the Atlanta Journal & Constitution. When it was picked up by both local and national press, my former classmates began leaving messages for me indicating they’d also been molested by the same priest. Seeking whatever justice might be available, I spent several years doggedly attempting to get those involved to take responsibility for their actions. Since statutes of limitation had expired in our particular case, the local Catholic hierarchy, following the lead of other bishops across the U.S., was loathe to admit any involvement, much less a moral responsibility to compensate for the wrongs done.

Looking for support in my efforts, I became a member of SNAP (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests) and over the course of eighteen months attended meetings in Dallas, Louisville and Boston. By the time I got to Boston, I realized I’d reached the end of my capacity for dealing with the darkness of this issue. At SNAP meetings I’d heard too many sordid details of how priests had done physical, emotional, and spiritual harm to those in their care. I wanted to help but mostly I wanted to find redemption for the pain, my own in particular. In Boston, then, for 3 nights running, I couldn’t sleep. But as I tossed and turned an inner voice seem to whisper, “Do Art, Do Art, Do Art!”

As I mentioned, I had no interest in “doing Art” and even less idea about what to do I were to try. Since, however, I’d also had a similarly unlikely call to ministry (around the time I’d dropped out of that oil painting class) I wasn’t inclined to ignore intuitive nudges such as this. Instead, when I returned home to Atlanta, I bought art supplies. The easel, a stack of canvas, and a paint box sat in a closet, unopened and unused for 6 months. Then a moment arrived one sunny June day when I looked out the window and spied some blue asters and orange tiger lilies growing in the back yard. I grabbed a handful and stuffed them in a small ceramic pitcher. I set up my art equipment, squeezed out some paint and, without realizing it, began an apprenticeship that relentlessly offers opportunities not only for artistic development, but also for (and perhaps more importantly) psychological and spiritual growth.

In my dedicated art life I am a prolific oil painter. I show and sell my work primarily from my home-based Studio & Gallery in northern Michigan. I've achieved a modest amount of recognition (mostly, but not entirely regional) and comfortably support myself with my artwork. I've written a book (7 Habits of Deeply Fulfilled Artists: Your Aesthetic Needs & How to Meet Them) and I conduct mentoring workshops for artists of all skill levels. I do my art 24/7.

This blog is for all of us who are engaged in doing the Work of Art and those who think they might want or need to be. Please know that I’m writing this mostly to clarify my own understanding of this huge subject. Nevertheless I hope that this blog will also inspire, encourage, and enlighten others. If you have suggestions for a topic, or a question from your own art practice efforts, please feel free to post in the Comments. As much as time will allow, I’ll try to respond, either directly  or in a subsequent post. Please share this with others who you feel may benefit from these reflections.

Thanks for reading!

Ellie

This year I did in public (in a church!) something I'd only ever done in private. No, silly, it wasn't that! But it was nonetheless quite a turn-on. What is the It of which I speak? Painting to music—in this case, live music. And, not just any live music, this was original music written by contemporary composers, some of whom were also in the performing ensemble, Manitou Winds.

This unique opportunity first presented itself last February as an email I opened during the opening for the a national exhibit in which one of my paintings was featured at the Prince Street Gallery in NYC. Arriving as it did in the din of a packed reception, the invitation from Winds founder Jason McKinney intrigued me. I responded with interest, unsure of what it would mean to collaborate with a bunch of classical musicians. (Up to this point, much of my painting-to-music involved recorded tunes by, say, the Rolling Stones or Talking Heads.)

A few weeks later I met with Jason and his partner, James Deaton, in my Studio & Gallery. We didn’t have a clear idea of how we might work together but seemed in sync with a willingness to feel our way forward. Initially it appeared the collaboration would simply involve the use of one of my painting images in the publicity material for a concert to be held at a Frankfort area church in early May. (I was happy they chose “Up North Jewelscape”!) Jason also suggested I could bring some paintings along to the concert for display in the narthex of the church. All of this sounded fine to me.

In the time between our meeting and the concert, I met another member of the ensemble, sat in with Jason on a radio interview, and briefly read descriptions of each of the concert numbers. Having done this, it seemed my part of the collaboration was complete. Then, one day about a week before the concert, a friend asked if I was going to paint “live” during the event. I’d heard of artists “performing” live before an audience and not given it much thought, but in this circumstance it seemed like a perfect way to expand our notion of collaboration. I jumped on the idea, Jason was open to it, and we worked out the logistics of how this might happen.

On the day, May 1, the concert commenced, front and center in the sanctuary, with “Up North Jewelscape” as a backdrop. I had located my gear off to one side in the area occupied on Sunday mornings by the choir.  I then squeezed out some paint and placed a blank 30” x 40” canvas on my easel. With no particular image in mind, I simply responded to the music as I was hearing it in the moment. Deliberately setting aside my thoughts, as in meditation, I painted intuitively, allowing the brush or palette knife, this color or that, to make their way to the canvas without thought, according to impulses arising both from the music and within me. Within a short time, I found myself at one with the music, in a sort of fearless, inspired, altered state I’d previously only experienced when speaking or teaching in church.

Over the course of the one hour ten minute concert, the painting image pictured here emerged. After the theme of the concert, I’ve titled it “New Voices.” To me it speaks of the reality of how Art Ideas can find expression when there’s openness and trust in the process of consecrated action. I can recognize familiar elements in this work, but I also see passages that I might not have chosen to include. As a whole, the painting seems to have come from a space that includes me, but also transcends me.

I so loved being in that expansive space that when Jason suggested a further collaboration at the end of the summer, I jumped on that idea too. This one will be on September 30 at the Oliver Art Center, here in Frankfort. The canvas will be even larger this time! So, too, perhaps will be the empty, creative space I may enter for the creation of a Summer Fantasy. I hope you’ll consider joining us.