The Black-Capped Chickadee

Black-Capped Chickadees are the acrobatic clowns of North America. They frequent the bird feeders outside my window and bring joy on the dreariest of days with their cheerful call and comical antics.
Despite their small size, they are quite brave. Often I can stand very close while they pull seeds from the feeder. In years past, I have even had them land on my shoulder for a fleeting instant.
In addition to their entertainment value, Black-Capped Chickadees provide valuable pest control, eating many insects that are harmful to agriculture. A huge amount of their preferred habitat has been lost to suburban sprawl and deforestation, but we can give back what we have taken from them by providing feeders and nestboxes. Please consider eliminating the use of pesticides and instead welcome a natural and entertaining form of pest control to your property. For information about building nestboxes try visiting here or here.

(This image is from an older watercolor painting that had been damaged. I scanned a section of the original and did some minor touch-ups using digital software.)
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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 

All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

The Morrigan: The Dark Mother

The Morrigan: the Dark Mother

After six months of work, the painting "The Morrigan: The Dark Mother" is complete. This painting was an exploration of the dark side of life. By dark, I do not mean evil, but simply the negative aspects that when combined with the positive, complete the whole. I chose the Irish goddess The Morrigan to represent this exploration and added both archetypal and personal symbols to further represent the dark aspect of life and spirit.
The Morrigan, ancient goddess of the land, of fertility and death, became associated in more "modern times" with war. In triple aspect she was accompanied by Nemain (Frenzy), Macha or Badbh (Battle Crow). In her war aspect she appeared over the battlefield, inciting the warriors to become crazy with war-lust, and thus, causing their own demise. The Morrigan was not death herself, she was the harbinger of death, and so the Ban-Shee or the Washer at the Ford, became associated with her. She is the Kali of the Irish pantheon, the Dark Mother to whom we must respect deeply.
The Morrigan, represents the dark aspect that we all experience and possess. Everything emerges from the dark, the child from the womb, the day from night, and The Morrigan’s power exists within this place of potentiality. We also end the cycle by returning to the dark, day gives way to night, our bodies return to the earth, and so The Morrigan blesses us by releasing us from her realm and calls us back when it is time.
The dark aspect is not something to be feared, for to fear the dark, is to be afraid of our own nature. It is to be understood as part of a natural cycle of rise and fall, expanding and contracting, reaching out and turning inward, etc. The Morrigan offers us a way to understand and navigate the dark paths throughout our life, if only we overcome our fears and reach out to accept the “fruit” of knowledge she offers us.
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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 


All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

The Hare: fear, creativity and rebirth

This painting is titled “The Hare: Fear, Creativity and Rebirth” I have been thinking about the role of fear in life. What does fear teach us? When I approach a new painting, I often struggle with fear. Sometimes it can be a silly fear, like what if I use the wrong color and ruin the whole painting. But, often the fear is much deeper and more personal.
Sometimes making art is very hard, because in order to do it, you have to spend a lot of time with yourself, alone, with only your thoughts and emotions. Many times startling thoughts and feelings can rise to the surface and really shake me up. I have to overcome the fear that each time I sit down to work on a painting those dark thoughts can come and stir things up, whether I like it or not. Some paintings really force me to explore the darker aspects of myself and the world I live in. There are times when I have to put limits on the amount of time I can work on a particular painting, as the thoughts and feelings that come up can really drain me.
But, despite this challenge, I feel triumphant each time I leave a painting and come back to it again. Fear is only as bad as we allow it to be. The Hare has many enemies. Every day it must leave the safety of its home and forage for food, knowing that danger lurks from every direction. Yet, it must leave despite this fear, or it would starve or be unable to find a mate. I believe that the Hare teaches that we each have the ability to overcome fear, even if we are faced with it every day, whether it is from outside or inside.
Additionally, it takes creativity to outwit our enemies or to find ways to over come the fear that stifles us. The Snowshoe Hare changes its coat from brown to white during the seasons, an example of nature’s creativity at work. We are gifted with many tools available to us to outwit fear, it is often our own creativity that helps us use those tools effectively.

And, always, whether we succumb to fear or find ways to transcend it, we experience a rebirth. It can be small or completely transformative. The barberry bush behind the Hare bears little red fruit, each fruit contains two tiny seeds. Each seed is the potential and rebirth we all have within ourselves and is present in any given situation. Each time we transcend our fears we emerge stronger and more empowered, we are reborn as new beings, like the Hare, wearing a new coat ready to face the next fear that waits to challenge us.

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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 


All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

Looking Before Leaping Forward

detail of The Morrigan: the Dark Mother

I recently finished the painting "The Morrigan: the Dark Mother", which is a mediation on the roles that darkness, death, the end of things, etc. plays in our lives. (A detail of it is seen here. )
And as signals of Spring begin to make its appearance, I feel the need to pause and consider the dark of Winter as it begins to pass.

I think our society often shrugs off the dark times too quickly, thinking it is a bad thing. It can be uncomfortable, but the dark is not bad. I can think of many places in nature where the dark plays a regular, if not, important role: things such as sleep, night, the moon moving from dark to full and over again. If we look to the cosmos, we find that most of space is made of what is called "dark matter".

The dark times offer reflection of past action and future possibilities. So much of my creative progress leaps forward tremendously after a period immersed in darkness. But, this growth only comes when I allow myself to really be in the dark, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. I think when we leap forward to escape the discomfort of the dark, we increase our chances of landing in a worse situation. Sometimes the situation requires quick action, and we are lucky and land in a better place. But, I believe most of the time, hurrying out of the dark, only limits the awareness of our situation and delays the suffering that comes for not learning the important lessons.

So, as we turn our clocks forward, or prepare for the season's change from winter to spring. I am taking a moment to thank winter--the dark time--for the opportunity to work through life's challenges by giving me time to focus and reflect. Spring comes, bringing new energy and respite from the dark time, but it is only temporary, for soon enough, Winter takes us back into her arms for another season of rest and reflection.

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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 


All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2008 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

What Midwinter Can Teach

Snowshoe Hare (graphite) by DoAn

We have arrived at the midpoint between winter solstice and the spring equinox. In the ancient times this was a time to acknowledge that spring was not so far away, despite the tight grip winter still had over the land.

The ancient Irish Celts called this time Imbolc (im’olc) and it was the time of the winter hag, the Cailleach. On this day, she wandered out to gather her firewood for the remaining days of winter. If she felt strong and wanted to make winter last longer, she will make sure Imbolc was a sunny, clear day, so that she could easily gather firewood. People would use Imbolc day as a predictor of the length of winter. If the day was dark and weather foul, then the Cailleach was sleeping and winter would soon be over.

Imbolc was traditionally celebrated on the full moon closest to the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. In more contemporary times, the holiday is celebrated on February 2nd. Groundhog’s day, with its prediction of the coming of spring, is very likely a modern remnant of the ancient holiday of Imbolc.

Many other cultures found this time of year to be important. The Greek myth of Persephone returning from the underworld was enacted at this time of year as part of the Eleusinian mysteries, to celebrate the coming of spring. The Romans celebrated Lupercalia, which honored the founding of the city of Rome by the twins Romulus and Remus. The ancient Egyptians celebrated the Feast of Nut, whose birthday was February 2nd (according to the Gregorian calendar). Nut was the mother goddess to the sun god Ra. The Catholics celebrate Candlemas, having usurped the holiday from the native European pagans.

For the ancient gaels, this time of year was particularly harsh. It was considered the dead month. But, despite the harsh winds and icy rain that fell, signs of spring could be found. Ewes began to lactate, Cows gave birth, Ravens started to build nests, and green buds started to appear on branches and poking through the dirt.


The holiday was sacred to the goddess Brigid, who became Saint Brigit when the Catholics took on the holiday. Brigid was the patron goddess of Fire, Poetry and Healing and symbolized by a spiral. Imbolc was important because it fell on an in-between time, a very powerful and sacred time for the Celts. Brigid, if properly respected, brought the flame of spring, healed the dead-time, and brought words to the poets lips. Her miraculous powers could change water into ale and stone into salt. With boundless generosity she fed birds, animals, and the poor, and they all loved her in return.

Rabbits and Hares are also ancient symbols of spring. Hares sleep in nests or “forms” which look very similar to the nest of the lapwing bird. The lapwing builds its nests on the ground and in spring the nests are filled with eggs, which people took to be hare’s eggs. The hare was an emissary of the Otherworld and a symbol of the in-between time, which made Imbolc a such a sacred time. It is also the time of year that the footprints of rabbits and hares can be seen in the snow, as they search out the tender green shoots to eat and court their mates.

In modern practice, Imbolc can be seen as a time to look bravely into the darkness and bear witness to the growing light. It is a time of renewal, of re-affirming those resolutions we took at the beginning of the year to better ourselves. Now is the time to understand that no matter how difficult and dark things may appear to be, it will pass, for in order for darkness to exist light must exist as well.

On February 2nd, or perhaps before the next rise of the full moon, take a moment to sit in a darkened room. Meditate upon what you would like to see grow in health and strength this year: for yourself, your family, your community, the Earth. Meditate on the darkness in your life, look to what it can teach you, then light a candle, or many candles, fill the room with light and celebrate in the knowledge that the dark times will soon come to an end. With the lighting of the candle, you ignite the flame of your soul, offering strength to last through the remaining dark times.

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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 


All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

In the Media

Here is a copy of the article about my solo show "A Gathering of Crows" from the Oneida Daily Dispatch printed on Friday, January 16, 2009.

By MIKE JAQUAYS
Contributing Writer

SHERRILL — Artist Antony “DoAn” Galbraith says his work is designed to inspire viewers not only to look at what he has created, but to notice a little bit more the beauty that surrounds them every day.

“I think my mission is to help people see and appreciate what they have all around them,” Galbraith explained.

Galbraith has brought his artwork to the Sherrill-Kenwood Free Library for an exhibit running through the month of January, offering a black and white collection of feathered friends titled “A Gathering of Crows.” He said his art is more of a subjective study of the birds, rather than an attempt at recreating their appearance in detail.

“I didn’t just want to make a copy like a photograph; I really wanted to explore their essence more than anything else,” he said.

Signing his work with the dharma name “DoAn” — meaning “way of peace” — in honor of Buddhist philosophies, Galbraith embraces both art and myth in his exhibit. Alongside his art, featuring mostly black ink on canvas or clay board, are written pieces telling facts and stories about crows.

Library director Bonnie Unsworth said the black and white composition of the art poses a striking contrast to some of the more colorful recent exhibits, and she complimented the way Galbraith combined art and prose in his display.

“I think it’s all very interesting, especially the way he has all of the things to read along with his art,” she said. “It’s nice for people to be able to not only see the crows, but learn more about them. The library is a place of learning.”

Galbraith recently moved back to Sherrill after 20 years away, and said he finds a lot of subject matter for his art in the Silver City.

“We have so much access to nature here,” he explained. “I can go out in my backyard and be surrounded by birds. This is a great place to work, and I think if I can get other people to think about how important nature is in our lives then I’ve done my job.”

The exhibit will be on display through the beginning of February. The Sherrill-Kenwood Free Library is located at 543 Sherrill Rd., across from the city’s Post Office. For more information call 363-5980.

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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 


All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.

Wisdom from Our Elders

I think one of the most important things we have lost in modern society is our relationship to the elders in society. So much of modern culture is concerned with avoiding aging and fear of death. As a result, we shun the elders, hide them away in retirement communities, and spend far too much of our time shaping our bodies to avoid any evidence of aging.

What have we lost as a result of this? Aside from losing a lot of time and money in a futile battle, we have lost a lot wisdom. I wonder if the financial situation that the world is in would have happened if we had our elders warning us of our behaviors. At least, perhaps we would have better skills in getting ourselves out of the situation if we had our elders by our sides exposing us to their prior experience and knowledge. Would we better understand the cycles of life and respect that each age has its merits and gifts. Perhaps aging gracefully and with respect for all the lines and aches would be something to strive for and be proud of.

Recently I came across a famous speech by Chief Seattle (Seathl), a Susquamish chief who lived on the islands of the Puget Sound, and who the city of Seattle was named after. As a young warrior, Chief Seattle was known for his courage, daring and leadership. He gained control of six of the local tribes and continued the friendly relations with the local non-natives that had been established by his father. The speech was believed to have been given in December, 1854.

I found this speech to be relevant to our current situation. It is a speech that we have needed to be hearing more regularly, and if we had more respect for our elders, perhaps we would have heeded his warning. It is a long read, but highly recommended, if not mandatory!

Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume -- good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington--for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north--our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward -- the Haidas and Tsimshians -- will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. Then in reality he will be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white man's God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors -- the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian's night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man's trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

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DoAn Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the purposes of DoAn Art must be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. 

All artwork and text © Copyright 2005-2009 DoAn Art (Antony Galbraith) unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Antony Galbraith.