Between This World and the Next

There’s a lovely willow in the park across from where I live. Ten radial trunks twist out of the earth, extending from a single locus. At one juncture, where two trunks diverge, a hollow creates enough room to seat a human body. On the walk down to the pier, I can’t pass this ‘chair’ without easing myself into it and just sigh. Seated inside the willow, I get a sense of being fused with the tree– as if, should anyone look in my direction, all they’d see are branches and leaves.

Every artist has a bit of the wizard in them; that ability to pull out shapes, ideas and impressions from anywhere and synthesize, reconfigure all of these into another product. It’s no accident wands appear in several art disciplines– from the painter’s brush, the writer’s pen, the symphony conductor’s baton, to the poles, lances and staff used in various martial arts. In the Harry Potter books, magic school is the first place Harry has ever felt at home. Here he is allowed to develop and become who and what he truly is: a wizard with formidable talent and skill that will eventually, pretty much save the world. However, at the end of each school year, for his own protection, he must return to live with his aunt, uncle and bully of a cousin who all regard him as an undesirable freak. To do this, he crosses a platform barrier at the train station, which acts as a portal between his two worlds.

It’s intoxicating to exist in a state perpetually conducted by creative energy, especially for anyone who has struggled with its absence in spite of their discipline or commitment. Artists who have jobs or other obligations may also find it hard to release precious momentum when it arrives during limited hours available for work. The intensity of our immersion in the craft halts time; the studio feels like the one place where we truly belong. Indeed, by comparison, that other world with its very real challenges and demands– is often the reason why a few of us delay re-entry, and/or fled in the first place. Some artists do travel back and forth from the vibrant universe within, to the vibrant world around us with greater ease than others. The satisfaction of being an artist infuses them with strength and endurance to meet unexpected vagaries. In fact, the real world provides inspiration for many artists. It takes a certain degree of fortitude to acknowledge the tragedies, disasters and injustices that accumulate daily on this planet, to address them in one’s work, or to maintain an art practice otherwise– without being overwhelmed by impotence or futility. The integration of art and life using all the faculties necessary to conduct oneself effectively in both worlds, is one hallmark of a successful artist. But others who are more vulnerable, require distinctions that signify when they have transitioned out of the atmosphere and landed back on earth, so to speak. Without it, they are prone to conditions aggravated by prolonged awareness and concentration induced by the creative force. This includes sensory overload or withdrawl from one’s surroundings and other people. Nervous tension and exhaustion. The disconcerting habit of cleaning brushes in green tea and too late, sipping paint water instead. For them, even the basics necessary to maintain an ordinary life demands an adjustment. It’s easier to negotiate borders when something cushions the noticeable difference between each area. Or at least, announces when we have finished crossing the realms. A studio located away from our residence, demarcates plainly when we enter and leave, but isn’t always economically feasible for many artists. Structured, scheduled time for the studio works best for some but is impractical for others. I do find though, the habit of setting it aside during a regular part of the day or week, one method of containing intense energies. (Although when artists live and work in one place, interruptions are common. Phones do turn off but then laundry has to go in the dryer or soup taken off the stove). Significant others– family, friends, partners, groups, a community network– reinstate the presence of the immediate world by what is needed to maintain those relationships. Most artists benefit from any element that grounds them. Nature is a wonderful choice. The hypersensitivity, agitation, even combativeness dialed up by engaging in a creative process, has a chance to siphon off by literally touching wood, breathing in a park or walking down a lakefront. Animals who live with us provide a source of stability by the attention demanded for their care. The warmth and physicality of their presence, offers those who are overextended with febrile visions, a gentle escort back into the mundane world– especially for artists who live alone. After a sojourn in the studio, I find most activities that shift awareness into the physical body, helpful in the restoration of ordinary life. Holding and stroking a cat. Eating a banana. Practicing the hip hop move my eight year old neighbour taught me. It is tempting to stay in lands of imagination and just surface for meals. The colours are so much richer there and the images more amenable to command. But my attendance is also requested elsewhere. There are tax forms to fill out for parents, a job I must show up for to get paid, appointments and meetings. Most people, no matter how well nurtured or supported in a safe environment, still have to go out into the world. As harsh and abrasive as that place can be, it’s also where I distribute the results of my efforts in the studio. Until the passages conducted between the interior of artist life and the exterior of daily life become effortless– gestures of mediation help bridge a connection to both.