Who knew these little winged beings would emerge?
I admit I’m rather fond of them.
Creature Conversations was created over four separate chats with fabulous art therapists. I found it an intriguing way to approach art-making – keeping one piece going over several different exchanges.
with the Dotties – an art therapist peer support group I am blessed to have in my life.
Laying down tissue,
the watercolour run,
move across the mini-landscape
It turns out a respected, experienced art therapist is seeking me out for supervision. I am honoured.
background colours appear.
I spread out.
with my lovely colleague about Leaf-by-Leaf project possibilities. We spark. We are dually inspired.
I look at the picture so far.
I see blobs and shapes
that could be little critters.
I draw them forth with texta.
First, a butterfly.
Then a winged cat.
This is truly fun.
in which a colleague generously listens to what’s been happening in my world. She helps me reconnect with the ground of being.
Earth swirls appear.
Yes – the whole thing is watery,
I have a sense of earth and sky.
ever make art
while on the phone?
Oh yeah – I am not great at figuring out how to link up my social media stuff, but I recently joined Instagram. I’m artandsoul.sally . Creature Conversations appears Instagramatically.
with love, art and soul
go to your Happy Place.
Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
Get out of the house, your worrybrain, your care duties and connect with nature.
Once there, you don’t know what you might do.
Turns out, Late Middle-Aged to Early-Old Crazy Art Lady lurks in a small soft corner of your soul. Out she comes! No shame, that one. No self-consciousness. She will direct you.
Ruby specialises in galaxies.
Watercolour shapes and galaxies.
Delicate pastel watercolour shapes with fluid interiors and defined edges…
Niece Ruby is thirteen. She’s found her artist medium and content. For now.
The labour of love,
the neural pathway-powering concentration,
the exquisite immersion in detail.
The calm, the absorption, the creativity, the flow.
Not for her the formulaic, dehydrated art education on offer in many early high school classes.
For her, the uniqueness of it.
The specific layering of materials.
Watercolour brilliants, an aquabrush, a facial tissue, some glue, a white pen.
It doesn’t take much space to be a slender thirteen year old expanding ever-outwards into interplanetary dream play.
Her mum adds a teacup, an earth, a teapot. Ruby decorates it.
I come in,
Listen to the voices.
Speak the words.
We are Pod.
My little Pod group formed randomly … or was it laced around some invisible design?
After Australia’s election in May, I felt a strong urge towards community, to be with like-hearted people. I sent out an email to maybe twelve creative arts therapists to get together, to lament, to make art, to see what emerged.
Four of us turned up on the day. We bonded immediately.
We became Pod.
Pod is for grieving, expressing our true feelings, making art and, importantly, eating too much cake. We’ve now met several times. We don’t necessarily talk politics or big picture stuff. We speak whatever matters to us at the time.
ART, LOVE AND REALNESS
my impassioned happy-slogan
in meeting three.
Pod gathering number four begins. We have cake on our plates. We have art materials at our fingertips. We have landed.
I slap down a bit of collage. It gives me a ground; a starting point. How about a pre-painted magazine page and a paint-dabbed tissue?
I notice the letter W right there in the centre, on its side. Can you see it? I pause. W? What might that mean to me right now? Straight away the answer comes. It stands for ‘We’.
It stands for the ‘We’ of Pod.
It’s a reminder of community, of interdependence. It tells me I don’t have to try and figure out my life, my work, my struggles, on my own. Even as I write this sentence, I breathe out a sighhh. It is so easy to get caught up in individualism, where I think I have to solve problems in my busy head; where I have to be a self-made woman and put myself out in the world.
Do you relate? ‘Making it on your own’ is so embedded and idealised in our culture. Such pressure. Anyway, it’s a myth. Nobody truly succeeds on their own. Always, someone somewhere sometime is supporting us.
I write a little ‘e’ next to the W. We.
I paint a Pod. I write the word ‘We’ lots and lots of times. The word becomes weird and funny, but demands to proliferate.
More white tissue beckons. Laying it down is a bit like a tourniquet. Ew. Suddenly I don’t like the picture. It looks like blood and a bandage. We-e-elll …Pod was kind of forged in blood. And a community of ART, LOVE AND REALNESS is incredibly healing.
I still don’t particularly like the picture, but I want to share with you the sustaining spirit of ‘We’. I want to live in the Creative Love Exchange.
Along those lines, here’s a wee (We) community noticeboard.
Let me link you to upcoming offerings
of several non-Pod Sydney art therapists.
Penelope James: Sydney Art Therapy Group for Therapists in Glebe over 6 Tuesday evenings from 15th October www.arTTi.com.au
Anne Buckingham: Art + Mental Wellbeing workshops at Lane Cove Gallery in September email@example.com
Gabriel Lawrence: Embrace your Inner Superhero (for women) in Ryde on Saturday 14th September http://www.into-arts.com.au
Romny Vandoros: is to co-lead one of her Artful Retreats…in Crete! October 1st to 4th. https://www.artfulretreats.com/crete-4-days?fbclid=IwAR2nJKgrvf67-jnLhxqYK4ohJrrqz2d5MuzGl1n_isXpMX891JNJw4aTjZI
Phillipa Tayler: A Creative Look at Chronic Pain several Monday mornings in Willoughby https://www.workshoparts.org.au/course/ArtTherapyChronicPain
Roxy Taylor: The Benefits of Art Therapy in Residential Aged Care podcast https://www.wisecare.com.au/blog/episode2
Oh yes. There’s me. Sally Swain: I have one or two spots in Creative Wellspring on Saturday 21st September in Glebe, Sydney.
We are ART THERAPY ABUNDANCE!
with love, art and soul from Sally
How do you transform rottenness to hope?
Dispirited dillusionment to forward-looking possibility?
Why, through relational art-making.
I admit. Relational art-making, or art-making all on your ownsome, is no panacea. It’s not for everyone, or for all the time. And it doesn’t always succeed in its mission of enhancing wellbeing.
But it’s a damn good tool and resource, literally at our fingertips,
that can help
with easing difficulty
and re-orienting us to a sense of OKness.
I get together with an art therapist friend/colleague to talk about possible collaborations.
But first, we need to debrief difficulties. We’ve both been in situations where we felt disrespected and we’ve both been ill as a result.
I tear up – no, not cry – though I’ve done my weepy share of that. I tear up pieces of paper. I rip a pre-painted greenish collage magazine page, a pinky-mauve sponged page and some vivid green tissue.
I tear ’em up, slap ’em down. It’s a gentle kind of slap. I am aware of the torn, fragmented, broken edges butting up against each other.
Words that appear?
the one who loves to bring a group painting together?
To synthesise it? To smooth the rough edges?
To make sure each person’s unique expression has a place, a space, yet contributes to a cohesive whole?
We hold a meeting of a sub branch of the Anti Polo Melted Chocolate Art Captain Society. (You can click this link if you want to know what on earth I’m talking about). In other words, niece Ruby says – let’s make art together.
We are three. Niece Ruby, sister Jen and me.
Ruby prompts. I groan. Does this surprise you? Art and Soul Sally? Groaning about an art-making opportunity with her favourite (only) niece and favourite (only) sister? Whaaa? Sally doesn’t feel like making art?
Truth be told, I often don’t feel like it. Specially at night. It’s a daylight activity for me. There. I’ve said it. Maybe this art-reluctance confession can bring something of value to YOU. Tell me if so.
I stop groaning. I say Yes. Let’s.
Ruby suggests doing those creatures – that same pass-it-on process we did before. Each person starts a head and shoulders, then folds over the paper so the next one can’t see it till the Big Reveal.
1. Head and neck 2. Torso 3. Legs and Feet
and…Ruby’ suggests a colour theme. OK. One creature is warm colours, one is cool colours and one RAINBOW. We begin.
Don’t you love how people come up with different ideas and approaches? Quirky ones? I never would have thought of a jacket made of flowers with eyes. I didn’t think of doing white galaxies on purple legs. Wow.
It’s rather rushed.
Everyone has a different painting pace.
How to express uniqueness of style within a collective format?
Not fun. Roadblocks.
Not every one of us is happy with our work.
Not every one of us is happy with how our work fits with the others’ work.
With permission, I attempt to rescue an area of unhappiness.
Ha. That’s life. That’s creativity.
But overall, it’s fabulous. There’s nothing at stake. We play. We connect. We experiment with the media.
Ruby adds some colour washes. It’s great to see her enjoyment of the Brilliants.
I ask permission to come back to each piece and ‘bring it together’. I like doing that, mostly. Synthesising the slightly mismatching, disparate pieces, soothing the awkwardness, unifying and harmonising. That’s a big part of my Leaf-by-Leaf collaborative artwork process, which I would love to share with you some time. It will need its own blog post.
Weeks later, in a seaside, light and airy place, I do that synthesising, gently nudging misalignment into alignment.
Is there a name for this role? I don’t know. Please make a suggestion.
The team seem happy with the outcome.
with love, art and soul
My true confession? I don’t go to too many exhibitions. I should. I’d like to. I just don’t.
I prefer to MAKE art
or to witness other people
(often those who don’t see themselves as artists)
I guess I’m a good match for my very own Art and Soul practice, where I get to witness AND facilitate.
I chanced upon The National exhibition in Sydney at Carriageworks
earlier in the year.
I noticed an abundance of installations, groupings of similar objects. Can’t think of the specific name for that type of work.
Who knew there were so many styles of banana box?
Cartonography FNQ just made me feel plain happy.
A Sorcerer’s Dress obliged me to explore, inspect, discover. It activated my inner tactility. And spoke to my spiritual nature.
Months later, I saw more of The National. This time at Art Gallery of NSW.
There were more installation groupings of similar stuff. I still couldn’t think of the name of that type of work, but I liked a lot of it. Koji Ryui’s glassy work touched my beauty nerve.
Another grouped glass found objects sculpture brought glazed glimmers of beauty, expansion, possibility…
The microscopic transformations
of making one small picture
ripple through the pages of personhood,
radiating ever outwards.
Grumpy. Tired. Hyper-vigilant.
Stray shreds of tissue. Let’s make a beautiful flower with spiral centre.
Oh no! It’s a grumpy tired spider flower.
Bright. Too bright.
Spiky. Too spiky.
Art doesn’t lie.
Can’t let the world see me like this.
Paint over, paint over.
Paint pink, white, gold.
Vigorous. Begin to feel better, calmer. Practise the art of upliftment.
But it’s pretty. Too pretty. Sweet. Too sweet.
During creative community pod gathering, add pre-painted magazine page.
Viscous, white on shiny, black paper.
Define, strengthen, re-introduce the truth.
Bring substance and depth.
Friend says, ‘I can see tiny little worlds behind the petals’.
Later. Black fine-liner. Scribble, scrawl with restless, artful purpose.
Red oil crayon. Swirl firm spiral centre. Scrape side across the raised dry tissue texture. Feel the old skin and know what’s beneath.
Rough and smooth.
Concealed and revealed.
Authentic layers of life.
(Here’s another Tiny Worlds post.)
with love, art and soul from Sally