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“[I painted] because I wanted to understand myself.” From the moment I first read this statement, quoting Henri Matisse in Jack Flam’s Matisse on Art, I recognized my own motive, not only for painting, but for everything in life I’d been called to do. At the time, September, 2011, I was ensconced at the Thoreson Farm in Port Oneida, in an artist residency provided to me by the Glen Arbor Artist Association (now Glen Arbors Arts Center). For 2 weeks my only obligation was to paint and to reflect on my art and life. It was a sweet obligation, indeed.

 

For many artists, a residency is a mixed blessing. On the plus side there’s all that solitary time to make art. On the other side, however, there’s the painful reality that there’s all that solitary time to make art and no distractions. (As our current pandemic has demonstrated, having a lot of time in isolation can be extremely confrontational.) In an artist residency the pressure to use time sensibly, productively, usefully, can be subtle but intense. From my time serving as a juror for a national park residency, I’ve observed some artists freeze and produce nothing! Others embrace their aloneness and make lots of paintings.  

 

I’m grateful that by the time I turned to art, I was ready for this challenge. It was time for me to consider a new way of life, the life as an artist and I relished the opportunity to see if I could do this: Make art—for myself and no one else—and know that it is enough to aim, in life, simply to understand, become, and express oneself (or someone cleverly put it, “one’s Elf”).

 

I have not always been true to the radical and deeply satisfying notion that may be meant by the term “Art for art’s sake.” Primed by my Catholic upbringing to value martyrdom and helping those less fortunate than myself, I’d already had two careers in “helping” professions. Helping, serving, and being useful, especially for women, sometimes (often) seems more important than life its own self. As a compulsive helper—RN, ordained minister—I have also tried to figure out how to use art as a way to be helpful, for example, by coaching or giving lessons. (Or serving on juries, writing books, etc. I once even considered starting an Art Church!)

 

I’ve concluded, however, perhaps the most helpful thing I’ve been able to do with art is to give myself (and by extension, others) complete and full permission to do their Art.

 

The past year’s “stay at home” orders have provided me something that resembles an extended artist residency with its attendant mixed blessings. As I’ve noticed fewer people than ever visiting my studio or looking at my website, I’ve given myself leave to let go and let Art even more deeply. As never before I’ve allowed myself to follow my intuitive creative process where it wants to go.  I literally stand at the easel and, with randomly selected tools and pigments, spontaneously make marks, sometimes with my eyes closed or using my left (non-dominant) hand, using a brush or sponge or fingers. I’ve taken completed canvases  and scribbled over them—again and again—without a thought about how likeable the painting  I’m creating might or might not be. And, as a body of emerging work, I understand that something within me is being revealed in me and through them.

 

I’ve gathered examples of this recent work into a new Portfolio collection I’ve named “Emergence.” Without any conscious intention, these paintings reveal a development of the bird motif that has dominated my work for the past four years. Birds no longer perch in treetops but now locate themselves in floating worlds, where they sit on or hover over (and sometimes under) lily pads with blooms. Bird shapes now emerge from the tops of the blossoms. Drippy roots sink down and draw nourishment from the rich muck below. Buddhist and other spiritual symbols of transformation come to mind, but their meaning unfolds moment by moment depending on who’s looking.

 

If you’re someone who started following me back in the days when I reveled in painting the landscape of northern Michigan, I can imagine you might be scratching your head and wondering what happened to that painter, the one that painted such pleasing barns and dunes? Or, even, the one that more recently painted pretty birds—where did she disappear to?

 

That said, if you’re still reading this, you may be as interested as I am in how an individual is unconsciously moved by mighty creative forces that invite us to become not just what we have been, but what we may be. Esoteric teachings suggest that such an emergence is not guaranteed—we humans are really good at our limiting our own potential—and much conscious work is required to align with the forces of transformation.  But with proper efforts, we can and do change; as living proof, I offer my art.

 

As I write this, I wonder if Art actually can help us breach dams to our creative flow we've unwittingly but painfully erected, and if only there were a workshop, such as this one ….  Making Intuitive Art: Permission to Paint Expressively.  I know this workshop is for me; maybe it's for you too! If so, please let me know.

 

With warmest wishes for these last days of Winter,

 

Ellie

 

P.S. I'm curious: Have any blockages or openings in your creative flow occurred in this pandemic period? What's that been like for you? Is there anything from this period you'd choose to incorporate in your life even if/as things go back to normal, more or less?

 

Feel free to leave a comment below get in touch with me by email.  

 

 

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