“Finding your place in the art world is no easy matter, if indeed there is a place for you at all. In fact one of the few sure things about the contemporary art scene is that someone besides you is deciding which art – and which artists – belong in it.” ~David Bayles & Ted Orland
Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
I’ve been home the last four days recovery from what I guess is a cold. I rarely get sick so any sign of physical illness perplexes me. This recent ailment is the result of a combination of stresses: adapting to a new high pressure job, attempting a fresh start on my life, getting my finances in order, rediscovering who I am as an artist so I can kick-start my career again before it’s too late, yadda yadda. I’m not feeling that creative spark. I’ve got no creative ideas that I’m really passionate about and I’m not feeling prolific or abundant. What’s worse is I fear that somehow fulltime employment is going lead to me losing the title of “artist” altogether. “Oh well. She just gave up.” “Must have been too much for her.” “She’ll never make it now.” Paranoia holds me close and whispers in my ear. “This s what your friends and colleagues think of you. No one believes you’re an artist anymore. No one believes you will ever be.” Why does Paranoia always strike when one is at their lowest?
At this point, I drag myself out bed to consult my Faery Troupe. Am I ever glad that I did! The Topsy Turvets aren’t the easiest of the Fey to have in one’s life but I get it. I’ve been feeling them run amok in my life ever since this new job, new apt, new life thing took fruition. Like a tidal wave of hustling & bustling motivated by over stimulated hyperactivity, the Topsy Turvets cascade into my life asking me to perform one simple task. Change my point of view.
Easier said than done for some. The Dreamweaver suggests we take a walk that night in her realm. I oblige because quite often it is in the dreaming sphere I find my seeds of creativity. That night I dream about the Space Below – my back yard.
There is Fey magic that lines the multi-family house where I live. It is why I was drawn to living here. The Space Below is lined with trees that I don’t recognize but now know I must learn their name. They’ve been dropping black berries. I think because it is their ripe season. But I don’t know if the berries are edible or not. I do know, whenever I’m down in the Space below, they like to drop berries on my head.
The Dreamweaver stitches together a memory and a future with both timelines threaded together by the single action of offering ribbons to trees.
The memory – When I attended the School of the Art Institute of Chicago I would often go to the Art Institute Museum and sit in the fountain garden they had there. It was my way of obtaining a sense of sanctuary (I wasn’t necessarily happy or stable in those days). The garden was full of Hawthorn trees. Their trunks were covered in green leafy vines and interlocking thorny branches created a seamless canopy to walk under and feel like one was in a forest and not the heart of a bustling urban jungle (just what I like in a sanctuary). I was just getting know the Faeries in a formal way back then and so I was motivated to do a little research on Hawthorns in the way of Fey lore. Turns out they don’t like really like humans at all. Which was interesting to me for two reasons: 1) I chose this spot not just because of the green but because even during lunch hour the garden was rarely occupied and I love my solitude; and 2) I always felt welcome and comforted by these trees like they called me to be there.
I read further to discover that if one wished to befriend the Hawthorns that one must leave them a gift. Tie ribbons on their branches. If you’ve ever seen a Hawthorn, then you know it can be a challenge because their thorns are quite daunting. Well, everyday until I graduated I visited that garden and tied ribbons everywhere. When it got to be a noticeable amount, museum security or groundskeepers took them down. But I persisted with my offerings. After all, it was the least I could to give thanks for all the sanctuary the Hawthorns offered.
The future – At this point the Dreamweaver tells me the trees in the Space Below wish to receive the same tribute and she shows me a future of me tying ribbons to these trees, researching to learn their names, writing this essay, cleaning up the berries, making dyes from these berries, praying, practicing, and creating sacred place in the Space Below. She points to the Space Below. “This tribute will lead to more ideas for more art and ways to increase your abundance.” She turns to me and asks, “What kind of activities creative & sacred will fill this space?”
I am grateful to be blessed with such clear and direct wisdom from the Powers That Be. I trust that in following this path of guidance my art will be lead to place it is meant to shine and be part of this world. In the meantime, I must work now with the Spirit Dancer to help discipline my spirit so I may maintain a balance between my creativity and mundane existence and to manifest this first piece and be ready for the next.
“Faeries hide what you want & reveal want you need” ~Brian Froud
The Faery Oracle