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In music, “playing by ear” refers to relying on an innate sense of what sounds or feels right; without referring to, or depending upon prescribed procedures or written music. This use of ear, referring to an ability to recognize musical intervals, dates from the early 16th century. At that time, play it by ear meant to sing or play an instrument without printed music. By the 19th century, the same phrase came to mean to proceed one step at a time, trusting intuition and a subtle sense of timing, rather than a prearranged plan, to determine the proper course of action.

“What happens then?” “I don’t know…. We’re playing it by ear at the moment.” (A. Smith, East-Enders, 1961)

And so it is with intuitive painting, where one paint stroke leads to another, each successive mark playing off of what came before and informing what comes after.  In the same vein as “jamming” in music, intuitive painting can get pretty dicey at times, as sometimes discordant “notes” appear and must become a part of the whole. The whole thing can get pretty ugly and can cause the artist (me) to want to give up and throw the whole thing in the dumpster (wait, I’ve done that!). But perseverance, pushing through the uncomfortable ugly stage, can result in beautiful and unexpected passages in the painting.

The process of painting by ear (or would that be “eye”, or even “I” – as intuition comes from within the self, not from outside or empirical knowledge?) requires frequent reassessment. A dance, if you will, two steps forward, one step back… I paint, step back, assess what is working, what is not, step forward, adjust… And then, at some point in the dance, I’m struck by a shape, and the hidden “subject” of the painting begins to emerge.

Here is a section of my latest painting, Blooming Prairie Bison, before the bison presented herself to me. (The entire canvas was filled with the abstract patterns you see.)

I've been asked how I "know" what the painting wants to be. Sometimes an image appears - not unlike when you lay on your back and look up at the clouds - and "see" dragons or horses or sheep. The subconscious mind is always looking to recognize shapes, and that is how I see an image within an abstract.  Sometimes I just get a feel for what I want the painting to be, and impose a shape by painting around it. In the case of Blooming Prairie Bison, it was a combination of both - the bison image appeared as I began to block in a more solid background, having finally made the decision to "make my big move."  I'll write more about that aspect of painting in another blog post!

I’ve been reading “Meditation as Medicine: Activate the Power of Your Natural Healing Force”, a book written by Dr. Dharma Singh Khalsa and Cameron Stauth. I am fascinated by the explanations as to why meditation, specifically breathing techniques, hand/body positions and chanting actually work to allow the body to heal itself.  Dr. Khalsa is both a western trained medical doctor and Kundalini Yogi.   Having lost my father to complications of Azlheimer’s Disease, I am very interested in his work in that area.

So what’s that got to do with a Moose?

According to the book, “Animal Speak”, by Ted Andrews, “In North American native folklore and healing, the Moose is associated with primal feminine energies and the magic of life and death .  Its cycle of power is late fall and early winter – the time of Approaching Shadows. It is one of the most ancient and most unique of the power totems.” 

Seeing a moose in the wild is amazing - the energy they embody is extraordinary. Their colossal antlers grow larger than those of any other antlered animal. Ancient myth calls these antlers ‘The Crown of Courage.’ The antlers are linked to the crown chakra in man. As the antlers grow, the crown chakra opens and widens giving those with this power animal a direct channel to universal knowledge.

The direction of the North makes most of us think of cold winters, ice and snow.  North has been held by many cultures to represent those who have survived the passage of time as North is associated with Winter, the last season before the rebirth of Spring.  From the North we can learn when it’s time to listen to what others have to say and when it is time to hold the floor and say our piece.  As a North Animal, Moose will always give you aspects to consider you may not have seen on your own.   Finally, those who have eeked out an existence in the far north truly understand how to be grateful for each and every blessing that comes their way.

It is probably not coincidental that I finished this painting, which in some respects, I began over three years ago (it is painted over a piece I did in 2010, called “Totem Horse”), now, in early November. The patterns that make up the body of Moose are reminiscent of energy meridians and chakra points. I am learning to be truly grateful for my life. The practice of being thankful teaching me to acknowledge those who have helped me along the way, appreciate where I am now, and move forward with the confidence of one who truly embraces love.

I invite you to spend time with “Northern Exposure”, and allow your brain to begin to find order in the seemingly chaotic patterns. You will “see” things that are particular to you. If you resonate with Moose, perhaps Moose is asking to walk along with you and help you on your journey.

Namaste.

I am at home. I am at peace. I am sitting in the office off my studio, the gray woolen sky visible through the window. I am so grateful to have this office, this studio, this home. And I am grateful for this day that I was able to spend here, by myself.

I made time to notice things today: The mist weaving over and through the mountains and passes, the thinnest sheet of ice coating the deck, the cat curled for a nap on the dog’s bed. I noticed the tangle of our wilting garden, understated in its bared branches, burnt orange and sienna.

I took time to be thankful today.

I'm thankkful for my daughter Shannon for planting my garden. She works with plants the way I work with paint. I'm thankful to my new friend, Cat Giglio, whose thoughtful blog about art and life reminds me of who I am. And inspired me to spend this Tuesday dusk trying to put into words what calls me, sometimes quietly but always with insistence.

Thankful for the email that I got yesterday, extending the deadline for entries into the Western Spirit Art Show, taking the pressure off of having to finish two large oil paintings today.

I’m thankful to for my husband who has a way forging through on his journey that teaches me something about focus.

I'm thankful for the close and loving relationship I have with my family. I am blessed!

I'm thankful for the friendships I have made through art, and the connections of spirit.

Maybe most of all, I'm thankful for being thankful - for being able to appreciate the small things and the large, to understand what a gift life is, in all its imperfections. I'm trying to remember to take the time to be thankful...today, and every day.

Namaste.