Good morning, friends, and deep grounding to you as we round out this month ~
I’m leading a class this week at Garrett Seminary on art as a spiritual practice (thanks to the lovely Dr. Virginia Lee!) and preparing for it has helped me reflect on the integral role art has held in my spiritual journey, but especially so in the last few years.
My husband gave me my first watercolor set as a Christmas gift during the pandemic when I had a newborn, a preschooler, and a first grader at home. The last real painting I’d done had been while studying abroad in Italy during college, and that was oil painting. I loved it, but oil is a lot — supplies, set up, clean up, and time I felt I just didn’t have. Watercolor is pretty much the opposite. Transportable, accessible, easy to dip in and out of. All one needs is paint, paper, a brush, and some water. It dries in minutes.
Some of my earliest, most formative days with watercolor actually weren’t alone — they were with my then four-year-old son, Simon. I’d pick him up from preschool, and while his older sister was at kindergarten and his baby brother napped, we’d spread paper on the radiator and just paint. He painted rainbows, over and over. I did my own version of that, finding myself drawn to every color in my set and painting them together. The vibrant, contrasting colors were a spiritual metaphor in and of themselves, feeling true to my actual life made up of all these contrasting experiences — some deep and rich, some bright and playful, all held together (#ashandstarlight). I was surprised at how all these colors brought together made me feel like my true self, bringing a sense of awakening for me.
My soul both woke up and settled down when I would paint, and I realized how watercolor was a spiritual teacher. Sitting with my paper on the radiator, my son swirling his brush next to me, the paint kept going places I hadn’t intended. The water blended colors I wanted to keep separate. If one area was still wet, color would bloom and travel right into the color next to it. A large bloop of water would fall off my brush as I was carrying it to another part of the paper, leaving a splotch right where I didn’t want. I couldn’t control it (and believe me, I tried). The colors, the water, the paint had a mind of their own. In many ways, it was leading me instead of the other way around. Watercolor became a teacher in surrender. In letting go.
And alongside that, a lesson in presence and paying attention. Watercolor slows me down. It helps me discover rather than try to only accomplish. It can also be a real experience of “flow.”
Even now, I rarely sketch anything out ahead of time or work from any kind of template. It’s a process of feeling led…following the Spirit, following intuition, creating in real time and sensing what wants to emerge. What color I feel like using. What needs to appear where. I find that when I open the space, I am often surprised by what shows up.
As you’ve probably noticed, flowers quickly became a theme for me in my painting. That, too, was a surprise, but also not. I found what my soul most wanted to express was life and color. And, for me, flowers are full of symbolism. They bloom with all their might because that is what they are made to do. The fact they are here for but a short while doesn’t keep them from unfolding every bit of beauty they have. They don’t compare their own design or color to that of another. They are God’s extravagant, ubiquitous sign we were made for beauty.
I love words (obviously!), but watercolor opens up things for me words alone don’t reach, or when they feel hard to grasp. I think back to when I had my concussion a few years ago, and for a long stretch afterward, writing, and especially screens, were hard for me. But I could paint.
Watercolor was something I could turn to when the ways I normally processed my life and faith didn’t feel available to me. I could still sit with paint and water and pray, even when I couldn’t string a sentence together and my head pounded. It became a way of expression and prayer that didn’t depend on words at all, or even need to run through my head. It went directly from heart to hands.
Spiritual or contemplative practices, at their core, are about paying attention — to God, to ourselves, to what’s beneath the noise of our continual thoughts. I used to think attention happened through stillness, silence, and words held very thoughtfully and carefully. But painting’s taught me the way attention happens through the body, through the hands, and through a process we don’t fully control.
The focus of watercolor, for me, is not a technique to master, but a practice of presence, surrender, and following — the same things any contemplative practice asks of us. It’s taught me how God can be found in the playful and experimental places of our lives, and when we let go of what we think makes “good or bad” art, we experience a thrill of freedom.
Teacher and writer Christine Valters Paintner says, “We live in a time when our capacity for imagining is being thwarted by television programs and video games that encourage us to tune out of life and become passive consumers rather than active imaginers. Cultivating the arts as a spiritual practice is a way of freeing our imaginations and developing valuable skills for vital living in the world.”*
Creativity makes life meaningful, and I believe every single person is creative. You are made in the image of the Great Creator, and when you create — bringing to life something where before there nothing — the Divine is breathing through you.
So, this week, I encourage you to find a watercolor set. Dig through your kids’ art supplies or pick up a simple set at the store (an 8-color set is less than $2!). Maybe try one or both of these exercises:
*Wet-on-wet ~ This is a process exercise where you drop watercolor paint onto a wet area and watch the color bloom. Use a clean brush to wet your entire paper with water. Then dot your paper with a brush of color and watch it spread. Another way to do this is to paint one color, then drop paint of another color onto the original color. It’s an opportunity to watch the colors grow and spread on their own. Don’t try to steer anything. Simply notice.
*One breath, one brush ~ Choose a color to begin with, and do a brushstroke with each breath. Inhale, then paint one stroke as you exhale. Change color whenever you like, just let your breath be your guide, with the pace of your brush matching the pace of your breath.
Let the water carry the color where it needs to go, friends, and let yourselves feel held by God’s Spirit, who promises to carry you forward through what’s to come and where you are being called.
**
Note: For some recommendations on supplies, just reply to this email and I’ll send you which paint sets I especially love, paper, etc.!
*From Christine Valter Paintner’s piece, “Art Making as a Spiritual Practice” which can be found here.
A Prayer
Normally I share a prayer from my book, Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life, Second Edition, but this week, I want to share poet John O’Donohue’s blessing for the Artist at the Start of the Day. One of my favorites.
“For the Artist at the Start of the Day” from To Bless the Space Between Us, John O’Donohue…
May morning be astir with the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse
That cut right through the surface to a source.
May this be a morning of innocent beginning,
When the gift within you slips clear
Of the sticky web of the personal
With its hurt and its hauntings,
And fixed fortress corners,
A morning when you become a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend from silence,
May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,
To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition,
Deep into the call of all
The unfinished and unsolved
Until the veil of the unknown yields
And something original begins
To stir toward your senses
And grow stronger in your heart
In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
A rhythm not yet heard,
That calls space to
A different shape.
May it be its own force field
And dwell uniquely
Between the heart and the light
To surprise the hungry eye
By how deftly it fits
About its secret loss.
Something that nourished me recently…
*Many of you have probably seen the “little libraries” that delightfully dot neighborhoods or parks where people can take a free book. Our church recently installed a different version of that with a little “prayer box” where people can take a small blessing, a breath prayer, or write and leave a prayer of their own to place inside that will then be held and prayed over by people in the church.
*I may have shared this before…I love candles, and love to light them at various times of day, but especially when I am sitting down for writing or creating or prayer. Years ago, I learned from my friend, Laura, about these pure beeswax tapers from an abbey in New York, lovingly made by the Sisters of St. Elizabeth Skete. I buy big bundles of them, and they bring such peace to my heart — it’s powerful to know these women are praying every day for our world, and creating candles like this. And fun fact, beeswax candles actually “wash” the air. You can find their candles here.
Ash and Starlight, plus other good things…
* MY ETSY SHOP ~ You can view the shop here . Some new cards, prints, and originals to come later. I send a portion of sales in my Etsy shop to Feed My Starving Children.
*SECOND EDITION OF ASH AND STARLIGHT ~ Find the updated edition of my book here at Chalice or at the Bookshop link.
*MONDAY MANNA ARCHIVES ~ Monday Manna each week is free! Supporting supporters of Monday Manna can view previous Monday Manna reflections here, or for the really old stuff, go to my website.
*WHAT DOES MANNA MEAN? ~ Check out an earlier post to learn how this little bit of “daily bread” got its name…
Blessings to you, friends, as you enter the rest of this week. Know the power of creativity —and the Creator — who dwell within you…
Love and Light,
Arianne
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