CREATIVE INSPIRATION
Still Life
The meaning of life cannot be understood in what we achieve.
As I paint and write, I find that I question my actions for their purpose, my decisions for their meaning. This is what happens when I’m insecure or unclear.
At the same time I am learning to trust my intuition and my perceptions. If this sounds paradoxical, it is.
There is also purpose in stillness. It’s not synonymous with inactivity. We need a new vocabulary to express contemplation as activity. Still life is life gone inward.
We make meaning to bear our mortality and the confusions of being alive. Meaning arises from what we believe to be true, reality is the truth that endures whether or not we believe in it. (Maria Popova in The Marginalian)
Recently I stopped further work on a painting I began last August. Not because it is ultimately finished—I can never be certain of that! But because, for me, it expressed a feeling that has more than once been a part the experiences of my adult life, a raw and unbidden feeling, a feeling that is both physical and emotional, and usually buried. It rose to consciousness while painting, and found its way into this particular work.
When I saw it, I felt it, and knew it was out of me and onto the canvas.
Betrayal, 24x24, acrylic on cloth.
After revisiting some old memories and associated difficult feelings recently, including a spate of memorial services, I have been expecting the return of joy. Much like awaiting the return of spring! To encourage this, I bring fresh flowers into my home, burn sweetgrass and aromatic candles, search out uplifting poetry. And I make time for creativity and/or contemplation every day.
Reading what others are saying about their state of being right now, I’m appalled at the level of pessimism and discouragement. A few years ago, a lot of angry, disenfranchised people wanted to believe that following someone who behaved as outraged as they felt, would make them feel empowered and great again. Now, we are all witness to the fallacy of that conviction.
We cannot undo what has happened. As artists, we cannot make silk purses out of sow’s ears, as the old adage goes. What we can do is reveal. We can tell the truth. We can show the beauty buried deep within the plain, the ugly, the everyday, the overlooked.
Like a geode.
Like the way some immature, gorgeous butterflies and moths hide within their repulsive wrappings.
Like a pearl growing inside a lumpy brown oyster.
I know there is beauty sheltered within layer upon layer that I paint, in revision after revision of my stories and poems, inside the simple ingredients I use in cooking, inside the unremarkable skin of my soul, yet to be revealed if I keep chipping away at my creative and contemplative work.
From my archives: collage and poem by Celeste. Forward We're not going back she said because back is at our rear and if I can have your ear I’ll tell you rear has a(n) err so we're not going there.
Wishing you forward momentum this week in whatever you endeavor. Thanks for reading this far! Your readership keeps me inspired, fuels my momentum, and is so appreciated! Celeste
One more thing to think about:
Interesting, as always, Celeste. I guess I'm not seeking clarity and security so much as the next layer of understanding. When I'm insecure or unclear, I question my actions due to the results and my decisions for their ethics and logic. I usually know what I meant or intended. Descartes wrote, "Dubito ergo Cogito ergo Sum." "Dubito" is usually left out when his statement is quoted, but I always leave it in.