Thursday, February 17, 2011

Sedna: Plumbing the Depths

Sedna (graphite, watercolor & ink)
Sedna, goddess of the arctic sea, controls the sea mammals and the balance of life and death in the cold north. Her transformation from beautiful young woman to a hag-like goddess is told in many conflicting tales throughout the Arctic peoples.  I have put together a condensed version here:

Sedna began as a beautiful young woman, courted by many suitors, but none pleased her father. Then a mysterious stranger appeared, claiming to be a great king in the north, and convinced her father to let them marry. Sedna went to live with her new husband only to discover that he was a cruel Skua (sometimes it is a Raven) in disguise. She called for help from her father who came to her aid and as they escaped in a small canoe, the angry Skua sent a terrible storm to topple them. Sedna fell into the water and clung to the side of the canoe to keep from drowning. Her father, fearing that they might both die, cut her fingers off so she sank down into the icy depths. As she sank, her severed fingers became seals, walruses, porpoises, dolphins, polar bears, whales, and sea otters. She became an important figure for the hunters of the north who relied on her generosity to survive. If Sedna felt slighted, she would call her sea animals to her and the people would starve.

The subject of this piece had been haunting me for over a year.  I have several sketches, even another painting started, but in the midst of this exploration I felt called toward exploring a new style.  I combined mediums and explored the contrast between realism and symbolism.  I even went with more muted colors rather than my usual saturated hues.  But what haunted me wasn't the new mediums and techniques it was the story.  How did I relate to it? Why did it speak to me so strongly?  Many interpretations speak of Sedna as a symbol of overcoming victimhood.  It can be a powerful story for that and at one time or another we can all relate to such a theme.  This theme didn't speak to me in that way.  I kept thinking of the nature of creativity and how Sedna could be viewed as such.

My relationship to Creativity started out as something joyful and powerful.  As a youth, I spent many many hours creating. I won awards for my work. I had shows in schools and in the local community.  When I was young, if someone asked what I want to be when I grew up, my answer was an enthusiastic: "an artist!"  However, as I grew into my teen years, my dream of becoming an artist was tested.  Common responses to my career goal were: "That's just hobby.  What are you going to do for a REAL job?  No one can be an artist for a living. It is time to grow up!"

This began the separation between me and Art.  As I grew older, and the messages that I could not be an artist grew stronger and more insistent, I found my life grew darker and less enjoyable.  I wandered aimlessly for sometime.  Then, when given the opportunity to go to Pratt in the Fashion Design program, I turned it  down. Afterall, how could I choose such an irresponsible career! I gave up on my art entirely then for almost a decade.  This, I think of as severing Sedna's fingers and sending Creativity to the icy depths.

Art Prints
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This decade was the darkest of my life.  Depression became who I was.  I felt lost and empty.  Each year grew worse and worse until it became clinical and I was hospitalized.  During that darkest of darkest moments, I found a glimpse of Creativity.  It began in an art therapy group (which I was resistant to at first) and grew into a daily practice of putting paint on paper.  I was reaching out to Sedna.  But it was an arduous journey.  Like the Shamans who must travel through many obstacles to reach her, I too had to plumb the depths and face many difficulties.  After all, having shut Creativity away for so many years, She was not trusting of my intentions.  What if I refused Her again?  Since my reconnecting to Creativity, I have had to do a lot of work, a lot of personal healing, work and healing that continues to this day.  The Shaman may reach Sedna at the bottom of the ocean, but then he must turn around and go back.  It is a dangerous journey both ways.

My relationship to Creativity is better than it has been in a long time.  But it is being tested again.  Is this the return journey?  Many obstacles are being thrust before me, just at the time when a career in art is taking off.  This is a test, I know it.  As I make this second leg of the journey, maybe Creativity wants to retreat out of fear of being abandoned. I know I must communicate to Her that I will not cut her away, even when there are many voices around me saying I should.  Continuing to communicate to Her, respecting the process, sharing my work with others, staying true to Her are all keys to keeping Her favor.  I believe working on this painting was my assurance to Her that my commitment to Creativity will not waver, even while I find ways to remake a life in a very uncertain world.  I have yet to figure out how it will work out, but one of my current mantras is: "Not Knowing is Okay"

This may not be the perfect interpretation of Sedna's story. It may not even be the correct one, but for present moment, it is the interpretation that makes sense to me. 

DoAn


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Monday, February 14, 2011

Living Felt: Needle-Felting Techniques Workshop

This 5-week workshop will introduce the beginning to intermediate crafter to the following techniques of needle-felting:

  • to create flat-felted applique-style work:
    • (crafters will learn how to translate a drawing or photograph into a simplified felted floral applique.)
  • to create simple three-dimensional shapes:
    • (crafters will create a sculptural form made from simple geometric shapes.)
  •  to create a complex three-dimensional sculpture:
    • (crafters will expand upon the dimensional shaping and applique skills to create a free-standing animal sculpture.)
Cost: $80 + cost of materials (please make check out to Antony Galbraith)
Registration and payment must be made with the Sherrill-Kenwood Free Library by February 28th to secure a spot in the workshop. 

The class size is limited to 15.

Location: Workshop will be held at the Sherrill-Kenwood Free Library, 543 Sherrill Rd, Sherrill, NY - 363-363-5980

Materials Required:

Needle-felting needles** (assorted needle gauges are recommended)
Foam or brush mat for needle felting (high density foam at least 1.5” thick recommended)
Assorted colors of wool roving, including white and black in slightly larger quantities
A good pair of scissors for cutting fiber
Flat sheet of felt (9” x 12”) (color doesn’t matter)

* Due to class size limitations cancellations of registration & refunds will not be granted after February 28th
**Please note: the needles required for needle-felting are extremely sharp! Caution in handling tools is advised.

DoAn
Help in the creation of art, please consider donating! Just click on the link below:
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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.
 
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

Observing Midwinter

Brigid: Igniting the Inner Fire

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. The Myths tell us that 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.

DoAn
Help in the creation of art, please consider donating! Just click on the link below:
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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.
 
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Walking the Spiral: Etain


Following work with Brigid, the inner spark is ignited, and the heat of growth rises.  Even in the stark, cold of winter, the dormant seeds of last summer and fall are preparing for an incredible explosion of life.

The painting of Etain: Rebirth and Renewal explores this amazing process.  Plants burst from soil, vines rise, and curl in spirals, sometimes growing so fast it can almost be witnessed.  The inner light then becomes the outer light of the sun, when the inner state and outer state become one.

Caterpillers hatch from eggs, feed incessantly on plants, growing at a rapid rate, until finally wrapping themselves into a cocoon in prepartion to transform its body into a butterfly.  Every stage of the caterpillar is difficult and hard work.  Growing rapidly requires tremendous energy, which is fueled by the caterpillar's ravenous appetite.  Using silk made from its own body to wrap itself up in a cocoon is a feat of amazing skill.  Inside the cocoon the caterpillar literally dissolves, as it remakes its body into something entirely different.  This in itself is a remarkable and astounding act.  Then, the cocoon breaks open and out emerges a winged being, prepared to take to the air after it pumps its shriveled appendages with blood.

Examples of this kind of rebirth and renewal occurs all around us all the time.  The caterpillar is one of the most illustrative and readily available examples of this process.  Renewal and rebirth is often connected with growth and positive ideas.  But, this is deceptive, because renewal and rebirth is extraordinarily difficult.  Etain's story is one of rebirth, over and over, into a multitude of lives and different forms, many of which were difficult and tragic.  Rebirth and renewal can be even more difficult than the descent into darkness. 

With each rebirth, we are shedding the old skin, we are letting go of old ways, we are becoming something different.  The caterpillar loses chewing mouth parts for a long tubular straw.  It no longer eats, but drinks. Some butterflies are born with no mouthparts and live the rest of their short lives without eating at all.  There is no going back once this transformation occurs.  Life becomes hell when we try to go back or hold on to the old ways.  Imagine a butterfly with no mouthparts trying to chew a leaf!  Rebirth and renewal is really a death.  It is a necessary death that one must experience in order to grow.  Our culture does not prepare us for this concept, and many of us struggle against this difficult process, essentially becoming a mouthless butterfly trying to chew.

The process of creating this painting was quite difficult, almost as challenging as the emotional turmoil brought up by the painting Boann.  It was working with the energies of Etain that made me realize how challenging going through rebirth really is.  I had entered with the illusion that this would be a light, airy painting, almost easy to complete after the previous three.  This illusion was quickly shattered as I found my own life and career path being challenged.  Soon after completing the painting I found that I was being faced with letting go of a lot of old, outmoded ways of being, many of which that I realized I was reluctant to give up.  But, holding on to these old ways has only invited a personal hell that had begun to become unbearable.  Now it is time to climb to the top of the vine and let the currents lift me up into a new life.  The void of the sky is unknown.  There is great fear rising in me.  But what butterfly, when spreading its wings, questions the lift off?  The new life will happen, but only when the old life is forsaken.

The first cycle of paintings is complete.   Beginning with the upheaval of emotional waters, which carried me down into the darkest earthy depths of inner exploration, where the ember of insight and creativity are sparked to light and life, pushing me upward into the air of rebirth.  A new cycle now begins, bringing me back to the waters, similar to where I began, but not the same place.

In this next cycle, I will explore the masculine energies associated with this spiral journey.  To do so will require a lot of letting go, a peeling away of expectations, a new perspective will emerge as I swallow my fear, step off the vine and let my new wings lift me.

 DoAn
Your donations will help me continue walking this spiral path and sharing my experiences. Please consider helping the journey continue!  Just click on the link below:
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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.
 
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Walking the Spiral: Brigid: Igniting the Inner Fire

Within the deepest reaches of the inner darkness, there exists the smallest ember.  It is a tiny spark of light, that once given the proper fuel, has the potential to ignite into a blazing fire.

Brigid, the ancient goddess of creativity, inspiration, poetry, metal-working and healing, is a goddess of fire, but not the kind of fire made of flames.  This fire is the divine spark, the ember at the core that ignites the body, mind and spirit into life.  It can be related to the Kundalini energy rising up from the base of the spine to the crown of the head, activating power centers throughout the body. Brigid is associated with the dawn, because, like the sun rising out of the darkness, we hold in ourselves the potential to rise above our own inner dark.

This painting came after a long period of introspection.  I was facing a challenge in regard to the direction of my art and was contemplating my ability to make a living from my paintings while following the spiritual path they were taking me on.  Could I do it? Was it right to do so?  Working on "The Morrigan" lead me to the darkness of this introspection.  I learned that I had a connection to fiber as a creative medium.  I developed skills in making sculpture from wool, which allowed me to continue making an income through my artwork, while I could let the paintings reveal themselves in their own time without the added pressures to produce and market them.  Working on "Brigid: igniting the inner fire" lead me from the darkness of uncertainty and fear out into the light.

DoAn
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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.
 
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Walking the Spiral: The Morrigan

The Morrigan: The Dark Mother

I recently listened to the audiobook The Creative Fire by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, in which she discusses the cycle of creativity.

Most people think of the artist as being moved by flashes of inspiration or asking for a blessing by the muse.  Estes explains that creativity moves in a continuing pattern of rising and falling.  This has been my experience of creativity.

After I completed the painting "Boann: transformation of a goddess" I felt I had reached a zenith.  I felt inspired by this new insight into my artwork and I felt wiser and more aware as a result as well.  It wasn't long before I felt a slow decline from this highpoint.  My creative work slowed. While I felt more connected to the spirit of the work than ever, my connection to the act of painting felt strained.  Suddenly, that light of inspiration grew dim.

The Morrigan is a dark figure in Irish Myth, probably even predating the arrival of the Celts in Ireland.  She was a goddess of fertility, the controller of death itself, and later became associated with war.  How could a fertility goddess be connected to death?  It seemed strange to me at first. But it doesn't take much introspection to realize how growth is preceded by death and decay.  Land is made fertile by the decayed plants and animals that enrich the soil.  A fertile mind is enriched by the knowledge absorbed. A fertile body is nourished by the breaking down of nutrient-rich foods taken in.

The creative process is likewise nourished by a period of decline, a period of darkness that is the opposite of that outward expression of the flash of inspiration.  Without this period of quiet, without this symbolic death, the creative expression loses fertility and richness.  Estes uses the Demeter/Persephone myth from the Ancient Greeks as an excellent metaphor for the creative cycle, even making astute distinctions between the way the myth differed in Pre-Helenistic and Post-Helenistic Greece.

This analysis of the creative cycle can be used by artist and non-artist alike.  For we all go through a period of darkness in varying levels throughout our lives.  From waking at daybreak, after having slept in the dark of night, to the coming of spring after the death of Fall and Winter's sleep, to the ups and downs of any one of life's situations.  "The Morrigan: The Dark Mother" taught me that there is a huge difference in outcome when one embraces the coming dark, rather than fearing it and trying to push it away.  No matter what, the dark times will come; we have no choice.  But we can choose how to move through the dark times.  We can enter with awareness and grace, coming out of the experience like the spring sprouts bursting from seeds planted in the fall, with determination and filled with the joy of creation itself.

DoAn
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Walking the Spiral: Boann

Back in 2006 I began a series of paintings inspired by Irish mythology.  I intended the paintings to explore the ancient Celtic gods and goddesses through a more modern and personal eye.  What I didn't realize was that this series would set me on a personal, spiritual journey that has forever changed my relationship to painting.   Over the next four blog posts I will share my journey, as it has unfolded so far, in relation to the painting of the first four pieces of the series.

Boann: Transformation

Boann: Transformation of a Goddess

The first painting in the series depicts the transformation of the goddess Boann into the river Boyne, after she had unwittingly released the waters from a sacred well. The creation of this painting came out of a difficult time for me emotionally.  I didn't realize at the time that my relationship to my art was taking a more spiritual path. Like Boann as she was torn limb from limb by the raging waters she released from a sacred well, I felt parts of my inner self being stripped away.  Intense feelings of sadness then rage surged through me.  Many times these emotions had no context. I couldn't make sense of what they stemmed from.  I did, however, have a sense that these emotions were connected to the collective unconscious.  There was no particular reason I came to this understanding, it was something I just knew.

In the painting Boann looks out from the canvas to the viewer, her gaze squinted.  She is looking at the physical world and the spirit world at the same time.  As she loses her body, she begins to merge with the spirit.  I also began to understand that spirit was influencing my painting process.  Once I let go, realizing that nothing was going to hold back the waves of emotion crashing upon me, I found rays of light, like those that streak down upon the Salmon of Knowledge.  Here, the Salmon holds a hazel nut from one of the sacred trees that grew around the well.  Boann's curiosity not only freed the waters of the well, but the five Salmon of knowledge which is obtained by the senses.  The Salmon, having fed on the magical nuts of the hazel trees, possessed the wisdom of the world and inadvertently brought this wisdom to mankind.

I gained a kind of wisdom as a result of this painting. I had a deeper understanding of who I was, what I needed and a clearer sense of purpose.  This kind of wisdom often can only be gained by a severe and painful stripping away of one's ego.  Boann, who had gazed into the well out of rebellion for having been barred from it, paid the ultimate price, but also evolved into something greater.  Sometimes, sacrifice is necessary for growth.  This painting taught me that great sacrifices were ahead, but they would lead me toward a deeper knowledge of myself and the path I was embarking on.

Once I completed this painting, I felt scoured clean. I was raw and open, but it was necessary in order to approach the next painting, which was leading me down into a kind of darkness I had never encountered before.

Next, The Morrigan.

DoAn
Help in the creation of art, please consider donating! Just click on the link below:
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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.
 
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All artwork, photos and text © Copyright 2005-2011 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.

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