Opening Self + Space

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva

I used to burn a lot of sage. In fact, there was a period of time when I was burning sage every night before I went to bed. I would walk through my apartment with my ritual bowl, smudging all the areas where I had experienced pain or sadness. Hoping that the smudge would clear out all the negativity that I had experienced (or, perhaps more accurately, perpetuated) and create a clean slate for a better day come morning.

I don’t burn nearly as much sage as I used to. Indeed, I reserve it for rare occasions. In a contemplative mood this afternoon, as I was smudging my studio, I started to think about the purpose of my smudging and the intentions I would set for it in the past.

Smudging, to many in modern Western culture and in New Age spirituality*, is understood to serve as a means of dissipating negativity. Sometimes emotion and pain seem to hang so heavy in the air that they are as dense as a fog. The idea of engaging in a ritual act to shift the polarity of the space that surrounds us is a compelling one. We are seeking to free ourselves of negative energies, to refresh our state of being and drive out things that are harmful to us.

As time has passed, my perspective on this tactic has changed somewhat. In the past, as an addict, I was always seeking a refresh button. Amidst the constant inner conflict between trying to stop and feeling unable to stop, I would tell myself that after just one more binge, I would wake up the next morning and start anew. I felt plagued by both inside and outside forces and sought desperately to evade them. Always identifying as the victim of antagonism, I tried to escape my triggers; anything that overwhelmed or pained me was something that needed to be escaped. If I could just get into my happy place, I felt that maybe I could find a way to stay there forever. If I could do that, I could finally get better. Be better.

I’ve finally come to realize that evading pain is to dance a dance that ultimately distracts. We can’t escape the inescapable: to live is to experience pain, and ultimately, we have two ways of dealing with this inevitable reality.

The first is to avoid it by any means possible. This expresses in endless ways. By engaging in distracting behaviors (substance abuse, workaholism, and codependency; efforts to regulate, structure, and organize life in ways that make us feel as we are in control), we pretend that we can escape pain, negate it, or otherwise exist outside of it.

The second is to open to pain, despite our innate aversion to doing just that. That doesn’t mean that we become masochists. Rather, it simply means that we are receptive to the wisdom of pain and the opportunity that change creates for us. Instead of pushing negative feelings and sensory experiences as far away from us as possible – which was what I was seeking to do when I smudged, back in the day – we remain curious about why they are happening and are willing to look more deeply into what they might permit us to learn about ourselves.

This is very deep work, and it isn’t easy. It’s best to take it slow, and seek support. However, in my experience, the benefit to be had is inconceivably immense. It’s also intuitively good for us. When we close our hearts and minds, we limit ourselves, our fullest selves, and the depth of our connection to the world.

It’s frightening to exist in a state of disconnection and start to open again to it. We’re accustomed to seeing ourselves as other, to sheltering ourselves from things we fear might harm us. We’re accustomed to hiding ourselves out of a sense of self-preservation, because there’s a whole lot of meanness in the world, both external and self-inflicted.

But there’s also so much beauty that we shut out without knowing, when we close ourselves down. There’s immeasurable beauty in the absolute fullness of being. In being open, in experiencing the possibility of not judging, not discriminating, just being a part of it all and being okay with that, we start to become less sensitive to the painful things, and our perpetual fear state begins to diminish.

And we start to see ourselves less as a victim, and more of a participant, with a greater and more empowered role in shaping our own reality.

So when I smudge now, I often do it out of joy instead – not trying to scour the very air of anything that might harm me, but celebrating things as is, engaging with the sanctity of all experiences, possibly setting a sincere intention; and through the act of ritual, experiencing gratitude for it all. Welcoming in whatever state of being is happening. Fully here, fully present.

∞

* Please note that smudging is an ancient tradition utilized in a variety of indigenous cultures across the world. In this article, I refer only to the Westernized usage of smudging, an appropriated practice which its users utilize for their own purposes. Please consider reading further on the history and larger tradition of smudging, including the increasing scarcity of white sage due to overharvesting, if you choose to engage in a smudging practice.

2020 in Reflection

In 2019, I looked forward to 2020 as the year of clear vision. The phrase “Hindsight is always 20/20” resonated with me, and I anticipated that 2020 would give me the opportunity to look backwards, examine my past actions more closely, and grant me the clarity to move forward with strengthened purpose and a clearer path.

When I begin work on a piece of art, I often have a loose vision for the piece I’m going to create. How that vision actually takes form, in all its complexity and detail, however, is a blank to me, and only happens as I go along. Sometimes this causes frustration when I start to question whether the piece is going in the direction I intended, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I start to cling the idea that maybe the piece should have gone a different way, or that it isn’t in line with what it was supposed to be. As I keep moving forward, though, I always come to the realization that although some of my expectations and hopes may not have been met, what I have ended up creating is exactly what it needed to be. Just like a prophecy, we might be aware of one piece of what is to come, but all that surrounds it, and how it actually looks when we reach the present moment, is quite different than anything we could have imagined.

2020 was much the same way. I imagined 2020’s clarity of vision to involve moving forward in ways that my 2019 self thought of as moving forward. I was instead catapulted into the dense cocoon of COVID-19, which served me well as a container space for introspection and growth. As an artist, I thought I would improve my drawing skills and expand as an artist in new ways. And I did—but not in the way that I expected.

Mandala created in Amaziograph and Procreate

First, I started working in the digital sphere. I purchased an iPad early in the year for a commercial project and started experimenting in Procreate. As a person, I am a perfectionist and expected myself to excel immediately in this new application. In reality, this was a daunting task. I am very accustomed to, and comfortable with, working in a very specific medium. As I continued to take on commercial projects, however, my skill in the digital world deepened. Currently, I primarily work in Procreate, but rely on Amaziograph’s superior geometric tools to create the base outline of the mandala. This in turn has inspired me to go further with pen and paper when it comes to the complexity of my mandalas.

Second, my work became more closely attuned with, and sensitive to, social justice; I began seeking to actively recognize and celebrate BIPOC in my work rather than remain silent on the issue of race. As an artist, I have often turned toward the utilization of neutral human-like figures in my work. My people have usually been colorless and androgynous, or my work has been entirely geometric in nature. I tended toward such neutrality because the aim of my work was to depict “universal” figures not delineated by race or gender, that are instead representative of the consciousness that dwells within all beings, without specificity of external appearance. I wanted all people to identify with my work.

Even so, due to the high saturation content surrounding my figures, I usually elected to leave the figures uncolored to serve as contrasting elements, which with watercolor paper, resulted in only “white” people. Concerned that this might be sending the wrong message, and determined that my work be part of, rather than isolated from, the ongoing social justice issues that inflamed further during spring of 2020, I started to work with watercolor to create skin tones for my figures. Rather than seek to portray an ideal of oneness, I now seek to embody the complex reality of the here and now, and celebrate, rather than bypass, the diversity of color, race, and origin. Several crucial pieces emerged in the wake of this realization, and I look forward to this aspect of my work continuing to deepen.

“Gatekeeper,” October 2020

Third, I sought to further expand my connection with the outside world. As someone who is in the initial stages of full recovery from addiction, I have moved through some very deep processes in 2020: physical healing, emotional healing, and interpersonal healing. One of the facets of my being is a tendency toward isolation. I feel most comfortable creating in my own space and and am deeply introverted. Thus, my social media presence has always been somewhat sporadic.

In 2020, I spent a great deal of time in social isolation, which was necessary on a personal level because I had a lot of inner work to do, but by the end of the year, I came to realize how valuable connecting with others can be, and how sorely I missed it. Creating art is an act of self-expression for me, so it’s very personal, but it’s also a way of connecting to others that has the potential to change lives and inspire others to find their own joy in life. I love sharing my work, I love talking about art, and I love connecting with people and celebrating acts of self-expression! In 2020, I began to focus more intently on building my social media presence, and in 2021, I seek to expand the ways in which I’m able to directly and meaningfully connect with others. Please stay tuned for more details.

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All in all, taking the bad with the good, the highs with the lows, I gained the clarity I sought from 2020. Furthermore, taking what I’ve learned, I’ve started 2021 with the desire to be more present in each moment, rather than relying on expectations that a former self created in the past, or an attachment to what the future should look like. Steadily, through stormy and fair weather, I’ve been moving toward a greater surrender to life rather than resisting and trying to control it at every turn. I look forward to the unknowableness of what is to come as I reflect on how many incredible things have happened during a year that sometimes felt insurmountable.

2019 Recap: A Year in the Life of an Artist

Just like other human beings, artists change a lot as time passes. We have lives that flow through the ordinary channels. We begin and end relationships, change apartments or jobs, and make discoveries about life and humanity. We’re a constant river, always becoming someone new, our presence in the world unfolding and unfolding.

One of my earliest works as an artist. Little did I know that art would begin to occupy such a significant role in my life.

For those of us who specifically express through a creative channel, change in our lives manifests in what we create. As a visual artist, I’ve watched my art evolve over the years. The tools I use to make my art have changed little, but what I create has grown in leaps and bounds. I love that I’ve organized my virtual portfolio by year. I like to go back and see who I was in past years by looking at what I created during that time. Each piece symbolizes something that I was working on internally. Often, I was struggling with something very dark and difficult. My emergence from a difficult state tends to be paralleled by the completion of a work of art.

2019 was a very significant year in my life because it was a foundational break in my preconceived life path. Having initially decided to quit my job in the corporate sector for medical reasons, I took my newfound freedom and ran with it. My success as an artist had been steadily growing for years, and I was beginning to show my art professionally. I decided, very seriously, to pursue art as my full-time career. At the same time, recovering from illness and an interrelated, deep and personal struggle, I hit the ground running but was very unsure of myself. I didn’t quite trust that I knew what I was doing, even though I was accepted into every gallery show I applied to, was welcomed as a visiting artist at a prestigious out-of-state event, and secured my biggest commission yet.

Transcendence, 2019. Private commission. To request a commission, please contact the artist directly.

I was experiencing such radiant joy at finally giving myself permission to do what I loved. I was also scared as hell. Mostly I was in denial that I was scared as hell, or maybe  I was 100% okay with being scared as hell because I would rather follow my heart for the first time in my life instead of live the rest of my life in a perpetual state of frustration and longing. I had been desperately unhappy at my previous job, and the prospect of looking for yet another job in the field I had been educated in felt like I was damning myself to eternal torment. And it wasn’t just that I wanted to become a professional artist. More and more, I began to feel as though I was being called to it. Both as an act of profound personal healing and as a revolutionary act urgently needed by a world in its time of need.

Even so, I really didn’t know what I was doing yet. I wasn’t a seasoned businessperson, so I was playing everything by ear; I didn’t have any kind of strategy put together, I didn’t know the first thing about strategy. But I needed to get my bills paid, so there was a lot of pressure on me. I couldn’t just mess around. So I was trying to put a bunch of puzzle pieces together – social media, gallery shows, public appearances, creating new products, networking both locally and nonlocally – full force, for the first time ever. And of course, I was also trying to create as much art as I possibly could, out of necessity as well as eagerness. I was moving as fast as I could, trying to process and comprehend it all.

The year ended both as a success and a failure. I had created and done so much. I wasn’t an internationally acclaimed artist, but I had certainly learned what I was doing right and what I was doing wrong. Above all else, I had gained immense insight into the herculean effort required to be successful as a professional artist, and was beginning to awaken to the fact that I was willing to work for it.

In 2019, I began to open myself to who I really am. That isn’t to say I’m quickly approaching an answer to the question Who am I? I don’t think that’s a question anyone can ever fully answer. But by giving myself the license to do what I really wanted to do, I began to unravel years and years of repression. I started to look myself in the proverbial eye instead of shrinking away into a version of myself that was presentable, but not really the fundamental, unabridged, passionate, strong, FULL VOLUME me.

Find Your Center, 2019. I began work on this piece while struggling to make peace with myself during a time when I was experiencing a lot of uncertainty and self-doubt.

Here now in 2020, particularly with the changes that the quarantine has wrought, I find myself still in a period of self-discovery and self-reflection. At the same time, I also see myself emerging from the soft cocoon that had previously been my relative safe zone. As much as I grew last year, I was still unrefined, undeveloped, and rather shy. This year, instead of cautious venturing, I am beginning to open more widely to being present in the world. Indeed, this includes sharing some of my personal story on my blog! All in all, I am beginning to trust that it’s okay for me to share who and what I am.

I am a visionary artist, and I am passionate about healing, transforming, and evolving. It is medicine to me to continue to create. I hope that what I create awakens and inspires you, too.