a mysterious connection

reading paintings as psychic revelations

The painting above came to me spontaneously as I listened to a talk on mysticism and contemplation. I am not going to argue for the value of the painting, rather I want to explore some mysterious features of the painting process for me.

As I was painting this piece I felt like painting was happening through me and I was only responding. In one way, this is the easiest way to paint, but it is terrifically hard to arrive at. The steps (and I am speaking only of my own process, although many may relate) seem to involve a series of letting go or stepping aside. Dropped are conceptions of painting, of theme, of intention. In their place is a sense of surrender, a curious letting go where I remain only as vehicle. I did have a feeling of the color choices, but I allowed myself just to follow the colors that seemed to request to be used. I felt like I was swimming in a sort of psychic space of contemplation; following the colors that spoke to me an an atmospheric rendering. I could imagine swimming, the pull of my arms against the water, the lessening of my body weight as I allowed the fluidity to carry me. I knew I was in just the right place.

Synesthesia-like perception unfolded. Now, as I view it, I recognize the painting as a painting about contemplation. It tells the tale of reaching for the ideas that unfold color-like as the mind moves through thought and thought reveals itself as awareness to awareness. Each thought is accompanied by a feeling form. The body of sensation is born into being as a dream incarnation. Can I will myself to choose a color-an incarnation that appeals to me?

In truth, the notion of what appeals has shifted. I am not sure I experience preference. I am moving in a milky way of consciousness just humbled by the mystery and this painting is an exact depiction of the experience.

Later, as I fall asleep, I realize that the painting is a self portrait, a portrait of my luminous body and the choices I have moved into. For some time now my left leg has been sore and uncomfortable; some tendon or muscle that stretched too far. My paintings have shown a strong left sided blue, as this one does in it’s vertical orient. I know, without knowing how I know, that the painting is speaking to me about my left side. I have always been a bit asymmetrical; a slight twist in my body that manifests in different ways at different times.

But now I am confused. If I look at the painting, the left is blue. Is it blocked or held deep in some resistance? If I am the painting, the blue is my right side. The right side forward, the side that faces the world. But no, it is the actual left side of my body that suffers and holds back. Have I ventured too far, or not far enough? I am opened to a dream and I am trying to grab the dreamer.

The connection is mysterious, but readable.

My body helps me because I can imagine myself into the pain and ask it questions. The painting has helped me notice, so I go further now. I think the left side is afraid. The left side, the side of hiddenness and moonlight has chosen to speak to me in the painting. I, the one who receives painting, is speaking to the I that sees the painting. Awareness is like this. A ladder of perception and diving into spaces-the flashlight of knowing is on, lured by curiosity. What are we that we can unfold to ourselves in this way!

I keep following the trail that I have laid down. I notice that painting is teaching me. I push color onto the canvas and try to let go of being the one who is doing it. Step aside, I remind myself, so I can find myself somehow.

Namaste

Leslie