Under a big tent, sitting on the edge of a stage on the Sunday afternoon of Rootwire Festival, I participated in a panel discussion of artists. Panel is a loose term. About a dozen of us – some of whom spoke, some who didn’t – sat on the edge of a stage fielding various questions in our various manners.
At one point though, before or after the glasses I’m not sure but I know I wasn’t wearing them, someone asked (to the group):
“It’s nice that you make this art but what are you really doing? People talk about changing the world, about making a difference. How can you paint while there are children starving, while there are soldiers dying? What difference do you think you are really making?”
I fully admit, I ponder this very question all the time. I think about it while I’m driving around running errands and then going home and back to painting. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
First and foremost – I paint because I love to paint. Period. It is what I love to do – it brings me great joy, this mode of expression, and I’m stoked to do it and have found that voice in myself. So, regardless of how it’s changing the world, I do it because I love it. If I am at least one person in the world who is doing what they love, then that alone, I think, is a good thing just by it’s very nature.
So there’s that.
(It seems sometimes that this thing we call Visionary Art is unique in its expression of the various aspects of the mystical experience. But that is another discussion…)
So it touches something in people – it tickles a sense… See, the artwork I create comes from living life a certain way: freely, openly, lovingly, with compassion, with gusto, with joy, with health, with happiness. So I hope to remind people of that a bit and inspire others towards that happier and healthier life.
But it’s an insular world that this art is shown in – galleries, festivals, events – things that seem to stay within a cloistered social circle. We welcome any and all, but there’s only a few who make it.
Those few, though – they have jobs they go back to, worlds they exist in that touch upon all the other icebergs of our society. And they plug into all sorts of spots in society: social workers, cashiers, teachers, laborers, business owners, all sorts of things. And if they can take a bit of that experience back with them – that sense of openness, health, happiness, joy that they might have felt in my work – and share it with others – the people they interact with, customers, clients, co-workers – then I think that the art I make does have an effect, however subtle.
Most importantly, my work comes from a place where there is a deep sense of freedom, of openness, of love. It comes from a place of doing what I love, and I hope that it echoes through the brushstrokes. I hope that it reaches others. I hope so much that it inspires others to consider: “How can I be more free, more open, more loving…and how can I do more of what I love?”
Because, as always, in the end – it’s just love…just love. That’s what I hope to inspire. Take it home with you. Take it into the world with you. Share it. Love – it’s endless. You will always have enough. The more you give, the more you will have to give.
And I hope that answers that question.