There is a lot of imagining in my art making, even though I focus on realism. There is a lot of embodiment too, of the feeling that I want the piece to have, of the feeling I get when looking at my subject, of the feeling I get when I imagine being my subject, when I embody the wild, of the feeling I hope you to have when you see the piece. So, over the next little while, I want to talk more about a few, maybe more than a few, of my pieces and share with you some of the love, the imagination, the embodiment, that went into their creation.
I have written about this aspect a little bit before via my studio missives, but this platform means that I can engage with you about it too, it is not just an email going into your inbox never to be seen again. I also know that not everyone is interested in hearing what the artist was thinking or feeling when they made a piece, and that is perfectly reasonable too - art is so subjective, if you connect with a piece you connect with it, the experience of the maker does not necessarily need to take a role in this. Nevertheless, this is something that I want to do fairly regularly here, because we are experiential beings. I can tell you what I experienced and felt, and that may inform your own experience, it may spark inspiration or reflection or a tangent that has meaning for you.
If nothing else, I hope my writing about what I do gives you calm pause and a moment of rest from the chaos we are surrounded by.
You may have heard me say this before, but I am an artist for the process. When I create finished pieces of art to sell, I make these for you. The gift for me is in the act of creating, the finished creation is for you to enjoy, to take into your heart and home. I have a vision for what it is that I want to go out into the world, yes, but it is in the conversations with my subject (and oh yes, there are conversations), the science experiment that is mixing pigment to match the reference and my mind’s eye, the act of curiosity and courage that it takes to keep pushing through the not-so-pretty stages (of which there are many) that fills my cup. It is a creative process, no different to the one an blacksmith or a potter or a writer, or any creative takes. It is wholly magical, and it is not at all sleight of hand. It is skill building and presence and thoughtfulness. It is practical, and it is not at all rote or boring. It is poetry to me, it is embodiment of wild energy, a cracking open of the limitations of my human body, an unfurling into the being that I am honouring. But it is also not just a painting or drawing of fauna - I am also trying to paint a feeling. Sometimes I create poetry around a piece because to me, verse feels less academic, less constricted by the confines of normal conversation, a little more magical sprinkles to add to the process.
I have a particular attraction to owls. I am not entirely sure where that has come from. It sort of snuck up on me. It is not like I have seen a lot of owls in real life, and in fact where I live there is not a great preponderance of owl species. Perhaps it was the barn owl manifestation of Jareth in The Labyrinth (one of my most favourite movies). Or perhaps it was that particular kind of bird-magic which seems to take us over when we turn 40 and suddenly watching birds is ALL we want to do (or is that just me??), but my first proper collection of fine art centred around owls, and was called Silent Flight. I have every intention of adding to this collection, because I think there is more poetry to come yet, and the idea of it excites me whenever I consider it.
There were thirteen long and delicious conversations with owls in that collection. Some in graphite, but most in coloured pencil, which is itself a divinely slow and thoughtful medium. Each stroke of pigment was adding to the poetry on the paper and in my heart.
The pieces in the collection were named after lines of Mary Oliver poetry, because oh how her words move me.
This barn owl, in repose, epitomised wild beauty when I saw her. Calm, reverential, a manifestation of elegance, grace and power. What an honour to explore feeling and embodying that.
Improbably beautiful and afraid of nothing.
A moment of peace, deep connection to the present.
Skilful, surreptitious listening in the orange light of dusk.
A quick shake, feathers ruffled and revealing the intricate patterns designed for invisibility,
all rust
and charcoal
and buff flecks,
like stars.
I place my hand on her heart, fingers sink through feathers soft.
I lower my gaze to the feathers on her back.
We breathe together a moment.
Breathe with me a moment.
Breathe colour a moment.
Breathe in
layers of ivory, nougat, green gold, burnt ochre, orange glaze, dark naples ochre. Breathe out
hints of darkest sepia, warm greys, walnut brown, chocolate, burnt sienna and umber.
Gone, this boring human skin.
A slow roll of my shoulders.
A quick shake, my feathers smooth, my imaginary wings tuck back in.
I pick up my pencil and continue.
This is the beauty of this work, of the deep study, the minutia of detail, the curiosity of form, and the absolute wonder at the intricacy of detail and beauty of the creatures we are so lucky to share this beautiful planet with. This work brings me such hope and joy, and I can't help but smile while I am putting pencil to paper. I hope it brings you delight too!
"Barn Owl in Repose (Improbably beautiful and afraid of nothing.)" original is sold, but limited edition prints in 3 sizes are available.
I am currently writing some thoughts about this practice of mine, and how it enables me to be a shape-shifter. While it may be an act that happens squarely in the imaginative realm (at this point anyway, unfortunately), it never the less has deep and lasting consequences on my physical body and psyche. Strengthening curiosity and compassion is just one of those consequences. But more thoughts on this later. If you are interested in stories of shapeshifting, particularly of female shapeshifters, I can’t recommend
book Foxfire, Wolfskin enough. My copy is dog eared and well loved, and each story leaves me walking away empowered and wanting more.I am thinking about starting a book club of sorts here - books about the wild, our connection to that, about empowering our creative abundance. Is that something you would be interested in participating in? It is safe to say Foxfire, Wolfskin would be high on the list!
More soon,
Nx
(With eternal thanks to @lydebug for her beautiful photography and her generous permission to honour the wild she sees.)
Gorgeous collection. Love that you used Mary Olivers’ lines as titles. Perhaps the wonderful addiction of watching birds can strike at any time in life. Preferably sooner than later.