Why do we make art? What opens in us?
Years ago, I painted my heart on silk. I couldn’t stop. I cut some into hearts, pocket hearts, and framed others in hoops and covered the walls. Recently I let most of them go as I felt it’s important to live and show my heart, the real beat of what pumps my living in and out.
Yesterday I was going through images of my grandson, now almost ten months old. I saw his heart beating on the sonogram as he was still in the womb. My heart pumped in rhythm to his, resonant as he was enclosed in the beat of another. Perhaps we always are when we pause to feel how we’re held.
That morning I participated in a Sensory Awareness workshop on Zoom, each of us in our own homes where Michael Atkinson had asked us to gather and come with three objects, a scarf or bandana, a rock we could hold in our hand, and a bowl or vase.
First, we lined our three objects up, and then, we worked with them as he offered invitations. I could feel when my objects were just right in that moment, representative of how I felt. They were in the womb of the beat of my heart.
At first I placed the rock in the bowl, and wrapped the scarf around it. I felt how all was embraced, embraced in my heart.
Then we hid one object. I was surprised when I set the bowl on the rock and it stayed, balanced on what did not appear to be a flat surface.
I placed the scarf inside.
All of it was Art, each moment, Art!