Heartsong Studio

 

After spending so long making one form of art, can you just chuck it all and change to another media ?

If your heart were longing for a difference, how would you feel about changing ? If you like to cook, this article might offer you a recipe for facing some fears.

How do you handle the fear of change ?

A client of mine has spent years making wonderful quilts, and has developed her work to a fine art. She re-discovered a softness in paint during classes that she had been missing in her work with fabric. But the prospect of changing at this late date, is understandably daunting.

You might have “switched horses midstream” before, and found it terribly difficult. Did it feel like starting all over from scratch ? Maybe you felt that you’d wasted all that time, effort and money.

The Persian poet Rumi wrote: “To hold fast is a sure sign of unripeness.” If a fruit doesn’t let itself be picked from the tree, it usually means it isn’t ripe yet.

When you have fears about something that means a lot to you, it’s usual to try and fix it with our minds as quickly as possible. It’s painful, so we try to stop the pain. But “usual” isn’t necessarily “natural”.

Fears are natural. If you can be gentle with yourself awhile, you could go inside and allow your fears to have their say.

Fear of the unknown is a reaction of your conscious mind. Your heart is the instrument that is designed for facing the unknown, not your everyday mind. As in cooking, the end result can sometimes be unknown.

Have you ever built a shepherd’s pie ? It’s made layer by layer, more often than not, utilizing what you have on hand. One layer rests on the other to finally make a mixture of tastes and textures that is unique every time.

Could your first foray into artwork be the bottom layer ? Maybe you started with watercolours. After some years, you may have become hemmed in by the limitations of this disciplined media. Or, you might have become tired of having to cut mats, buy glass, and make frames to preserve them properly.

Does this mean, if you switch to modelling clay, acrylics, or stone sculpture, that none of the skills you learned in watercolours will be used again ?

Aside from technical handling, all the real artistic considerations of form, composition, colour, expression, and meaning, apply to everything you do. Rather than being disloyal or disrespectful, applying the skill you’ve already developed to a new area shows gratitude and respect.

Maybe you could start in a new medium without throwing away all your old media. You could wait and see if it grows on you. You could always come back to the old one.

Matter of fact, this might be a good idea , from time to time. Even if you do get enthused about a new medium, it could give you a measure of how you’ve grown to revisit the old place.

Most shepherd’s pies have more than one layer. Some of the most soul satisfying ones have many layers. So no need to rule out other changes ahead of time.

Closing one phase in your life’s journey isn’t the end. Even death isn’t the end. Look at nature and you’ll see that things don’t end, they change, and evolve.

Change can be scary. Sometimes it seems too risky, and some people try never to make changes. Other people use change as a way of avoiding depth, which is their bigger fear, and constantly change.

Different ways of dealing with change range from stuck-in-concrete all the way to flighty superficiality.

You can make a shepherd’s pie the exact same way every single time. Or you can just throw together whatever you have regardless of the taste in the end. In all likelihood though, you probably make a shepherd’s pie with some combination of these extremes.

You might imagine the blend of tastes and use what you have on hand, and also go out and buy a missing ingredient which would possibly make the whole thing really zing.

The more you can find the connection with your heart, the easier it will be to know what is right for you. There are no rational guidelines to use. Whatever resonates in your heart is the call which you can trust every time.

 

Did this article resonate in your heart ?

How do you make your shepherd’s pie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 Do you ever want so much for a work of art to look the way you imagine, that you just can’t seem to make it turn out that way ?

Have you been taught that the way to success is to set yourself specific goals, and then work hard at fulfilling them ?

You may be surprised to know that this can be a good way of practically ensuring failure, or at least shallowness. If this is sometimes you, you’ll be interested in this article by Celeste Varley.

” When having specific goals won’t get you far.”

When Thomas Edison finally hit upon a filament that would light up a light bulb, do you think he knew, when he arose that morning, that this would be the day ? He surely knew that he sought a filament that worked, but he tried all sorts of things that failed before he could find the very thing that succeeded.

It was the process of searching through things that didn’t work, that enabled him to find the solution that did work.

Whether you’re an artist, a writer, a healer, a parent , a friend, or a salesman, if you set very specific goals and expectations, you might miss an awful lot of potential gains you couldn’t have imagined.

While you are focussed only on your end goal, you can’t pay much attention to anything other than the expected end result. You tend to find only what you have eyes for.

If you’re totally focussed on looking for one thing, you won’t see anything else. The paradox is there’s a good chance you wouldn’t see the very thing you’re seeking either. It’s like blinkers on a horse.

We held a yard sale recently. I saw two neighbours coming to look around, and overheard one telling the other that he had one very specific tool in mind. That’s all he was looking for. When they left, the other had a number of items, but the first man had nothing.

What’s the connection between doing a yard sale and making a work of art ?

One man only had eyes for one thing. The other man took in everything there, and allowed himself to be surprised. Approaching a work of art, at the beginning, is like hanging loose with the kernel of an idea. Not an idea that you’re very attached to, or clinging to, or have developed in detail.

If you can remain willing to be surprised, then you will probably find more than enough unexpected solutions to your general idea.

These “solutions” aren’t just your property. Inspiration doesn’t come from you alone. It comes through your heart from the Source which is everywhere. So if you are receptive, this new inspiration can grow your germ of an idea into a new entity. Kinda like an egg being fertilized.

If Edison had happened to hit upon the solution that worked the very first time, I wonder what difference that would have made ? Would he have grown through the process which enabled his future work to develop ?

Can you imagine if the first piece of art you ever tried turned out to be stunning in all respects ? Maybe your first one did ! But then, what did you do next ?

Can you feel the pressure you’d put on yourself ? What would you do for an encore ? That kind of “beginner’s luck” often results in a “one trick pony” - a person who has one opus and stops dead.

Living art has to grow. It isn’t pre-conceived, like a virgin birth, having the finished product in your mind already formed before beginning.

If ever you find yourself trying to “finish” the picture in your mind before starting, it’s usually a result of fear. Fear of letting go the illusion of control.

You have to start with something. So start with a feeling about something from your heart, rather than the full blown end result in your mind.

Say you’re drawn to a stand of trees. Instead of fucussing on how it will turn out, try to stay with the idea a little longer. Try to get closer to what draws you, out of your head, and into your heart.

Your feelings are the perfect doorway for you to come into relationship with your subject. It isn’t a stand of trees that’s your subject, it is your response to this stand of trees.

The seed of your idea can grow into an entity of its own when it is nurtured in relationship with you. With respect, care, and feeding, like any relationship, it may be incubated and grow.

How can you feed an idea ? Feed yourself first and frequently by opening your heart to your Source. Then you can see the work with innocent eyes, as it develops on your canvas, paper, or clay . By feeding yourself, you will have what it needs, and be able to feed it.

This growing seed of an idea is just as attracted to you as you are to it. In the give and take of a relationship, what could it give you in return ?

For one thing, you could find out more deeply about why you and it were attracted to one another. You might also learn more about your own inner life. You can become able to “read” your own marks as though reading a secret code.

When the time comes that no more needs to be done, then you may wish to name or rename the piece. In all likelihood, it will have quite a different persona from at the start. That’s a healthy sign of a truly new birth. It’s a big part of your reward, when a new entity grows out of a relationship. A new child is born.

 

Did this enrich your art making experience ?
Let me know if it planted any new seeds for you.

Celeste Varley
http://www.heartsongstudio.com

 

 

 

 

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