The Exhibitioner Art Magazine

Happy 30th birthday to The Exhibitioner Art Magazine, born into being in May, 1993. It was a labor of love with my partner at the time, Douglas Craig. The beautiful artwork of my dear friend Renata Zednicek is on the cover. I did the layout, editorial, and Douglas and I both handled the selection of artists, printed pages, folded covers, and delivered them in person to galleries from Manhattan to the Hamptons. We met so many wonderful people during this time and we also curated shows for our artists at a local gallery in Sea Cliff, NY. Three prestigious libraries had standing order subscriptions for every issue - MoMA (NYC), Rhode Island School of Design, and C. W. Post/LIU Library. We thought that was really cool.

Since last year’s strokes and other losses, I am doing a lot of review of my life and sorting through milk crates of things I haven’t seen in years. Among them I found this proof copy of the very first issue, along with a photo that I had considered using on the editor's page. What a trip it was to look back in time and find this. Someplace there are copies of every issue but for now just seeing this one is making me feel nostalgic in a big way, especially since Douglas is gone and yet I am finding so many pieces of physical proof of our life together and of our many creative collaborations. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him and feel the grief hit me hard.

Aside from bringing back those memories, seeing this copy of the magazine reminds me of one of the things I did in my life that I consider to be a big achievement. For the years we published the magazine, I was an editor, publisher, and curator. There were so many talented artists I met through the magazine and some became friends I still know to this day. This post ties into my previous post about making your own parade. This magazine was created along those lines… although not so much to do my own thing, but to try to find a way to keep myself going after I had to stop working because of health issues. That vibrant young woman sitting on the trunk of that amazingly reliable ‘71 Chevy Nova had just received an unnecessary pacemaker by an incompetent doctor, dealt with ongoing heart arrhythmias, asthma attacks, and hospital visits. The magazine was a bright light. It reminded me of what was important to me and that there were certain things I did have control over, including how to spend my time whenever I felt well enough to dive into something. That magazine was something, and even though “zines” were big in the 90s, we didn’t think of this as a zine. It was an art magazine.

Here's to the 30th birthday of The Exhibitioner! May it have created some positive, funky, joyful ripples in the world.

Collage and Pieces of Me

Our local library started a Creative Group and in our first session we were introduced to collage. Although I’ve been doing art most of my life, collage is something I’ve had great curiosity about but never quite delved into. This was fun and this one which I’ve titled “Swimmers” is a bit of a conundrum for me, as I don’t really understand it. Then again, that’s true for a lot of my art. Sometimes I know instantly as they emerge on the canvas what they mean to me, and other times it takes years before the meaning is clear.

The title “Swimmers” felt right because of the fish, but also because I was listening to a song titled “Swimmers” by Zero 7 over and over as I created this work. Music has a huge impact on my art and I usually can’t create without it. It’s common practice for me to hear a song that deeply speaks to the way I feel, even if I don’t know how to describe the way I feel in words, and then I play the song on repeat as I paint or create a work of art in another medium. This is something I’ve been doing all my adult life.

The first part of this collage that came together is the body with the white dress, the orange flower, and the face which sits above the neck so there’s a space between the head and neck. This kind of makes sense to me with how I’ve felt since the strokes. My head isn’t the same. I added the white circle above which is a drawing by Galileo of the solar system. Made sense to me again, as I often feel very spacey and a bit disconnected.

I’ll continue working with collage as I think they’re powerful, as powerful as any other creative medium in showing me something that needed to be expressed but that I wasn’t sure was there.

It's Okay to Be Sad, It's Okay to be Scared

A young, vibrantly creative woman of 28 sat in her hospital bed as a doctor who she later found out had no idea what he was doing was about to give her an unnecessary pacemaker and perform numerous unnecessary EPS procedures on her heart while she was fully awake. Her mother died less than a year earlier and her father, once caring but now aloof with grief, had just married one of her childhood friends. After the unnecessary pacemaker was installed, her left lung collapsed. Her grandmother who lived in another state, who she was very close to, was about to have open heart surgery and they spoke over the phone from their hospital beds. Her fiance, who didn’t drive, came to visit her every day by train. At least she had that connection. She had to stop working. She was also in the middle of a lawsuit where a public library banned several of her paintings the year before and when she challenged them, they canceled her show. Two years later she won the case in Federal Court and it set a precedent in the Eastern District of New York. But here she was, almost helpless not knowing what to do and so very sad for the losses in her life, and scared for her grandmother, and in need of support, and feeling so very alone. The sketchbook this drawing is in and these pastel drawings were her way to cope. That woman was me, in 1993. I am so strong and really see how strong I am when I think about all the things like this that I’ve been through and all the times when I’ve had to dig the deepest to find my inner core of strength, and I think f*uck yeah, I AM STRONG. But now…. so many years later, after strokes and other things….. some days I feel I just can’t do it anymore. I just cannot take one more thing. I love life so I will keep rising with every new day, every sunrise. But I just don’t know how some days to make my way.

Old Life, New Life... This is Life

Today is nine months to the day after I had the first stroke. I remember it each month. That day my life changed and I’m still not sure of who I am becoming. When I paint, do I paint simply because it is what I have done for fifty years or because I truly want to? There is an internal guidance system that leads me along each day. Part of that is the way I feel physically and part of it is, what will help, bring me joy, bring me peace in my heart and mind? No obligations although of course those exist, we all have them in having to eat, sleep, pay our bills, and get by in this human existence. But I let that internal guidance lead me along in the times in between.

The hoop is something I am practicing again now that I’m over covid, even though I still get tired each day and can only do so much….. many reasons I have this fatigue which I’ve dealt with for years. But I keep getting up. No matter what, I get up and do the best I can with each day. Even on the tough ones when it doesn’t feel like I have a purpose at all anymore…… I feel into my body and that internal guidance and let it lead. And of course, I have to say yes.

Bone Sister

This is the time of year when it feels like a good time to share my painting "Bone Sister". Years ago there was a website called Virtual Beret which accepted submissions from artists and asked them to describe a work of art in terms of a "beret" worn by the subject of their art. For me, I sent them "Bone Sister" and wrote about her. At a time when I was denying my spirituality, it still made its way to my consciousness through my art. Here is what I wrote about "Bone Sister":

This is Bone Sister.

Bone Sister is a very tall, thin, slender creature who has the appearance of being very frail though in fact she is very strong, as she has endured since the beginning of humanity. Her skin is pale and lucid, and has a subtle sheen like the glow of the moon on a clear winter night. Her eyes are of shimmery gold, and stare into your soul with the force of a thousand lasers. They direct their steady gaze deep into your subconscious and suck away all your pain with the strength of their glare.

She shares this pain with you, and helps you to understand and accept that which we can never escape - Death. Bone Sister is the Guide through the Underworld, and helps those on an earthly plane who have lost the ones they loved.

Bone Sister has mastered the art of creating shadows, illusions, dreams, memories and visions for those she helps, and she accomplishes these things in a couple of ways. One of the ways in which she does this is by spinning images from a glistening web-like substance emitted from her long spider-like fingertips. She does this so fast that it is almost impossible to see her move. The images are faint and ghostly, calling forth souls that have passed into another dimension so that they may bid one last farewell to those they left behind. Another medium she uses to do her work is her knowledge of the human psyche and her empathy for the human plight, which make it possible for her to cast images beneath the eyes of a person while they are sleeping.

These images are such that they will cause sweet dreams reminiscent of times that are past, and people that are gone from the material world.

Bone Sister's "beret" consists of two bone-like structures that are affixed to the sides of her bare skull, sitting at the sides of her head like two stationery closed angel's wings. They have become permanent, and have melded with the bones in her head. These bones are her crown, and make her face the altar at which to pray when darkness has unbiddenly descended and will not lift.

Art During Covid19

Being an artist in these times is pretty strange. It goes against common sense to spend time making art when people are dying and the ones who are most needed are the doctors, nurses, store clerks, delivery people, and everyone who is considered an essential worker. Artists are not, but then again, are we? I answered this question on a podcast called Dream A Little Dream, hosted by artist Jessie Taylor. I attended a virtual art salon at the beginning of the pandemic and shared my thoughts about how artists are equipped for these times. I made a separate video about the topic, which is on my YouTube channel. I was in a heroic state of mind, I suppose, thinking that because we have the time to create because we’re in lockdown. and because art can be such a solitary process and we’re used to being alone or even fighting for time to be creative, that the pandemic was a rare opportunity for us to delve deep, use the time and our resources, and be more productive than ever. Some artists have done just this, and I’m incredibly impressed by them. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to live up to my sentiments that I had expressed in that podcast. I felt flattened by what was happening in our world. Dumbfounded, stunned, overwhelmed, and traumatized, and unable to produce much at all. We’re still going through this as I’m typing this post. It’s not over. Maybe my state of New York flattened the curve, but right now the number of covid cases are spiking in other states. Who knows when it will be over, when we will be past this. This changed our world… everyone’s. Some people lost jobs and homes. Others were called to work harder and longer hours because they were needed. Why make art? Because art speaks. I know that. But I couldn’t push and I can’t push. I did some chalk pastel faces and made a video about them. The human face is my comfort zone and I still can’t figure out the expressions on these and what they mean. Here they are anyway. I think they capture a bit of the numbness that I’m still feeling… a combination of blank meets panic.

My Art at The Dolphin and a Starry Sky City

This month, April, my art is on display at The Dolphin Bookshop and Cafe in Port Washington, NY. There is a lot of new work in the show, including recently completed oil paintings, smaller watercolor works, and mandalas.

Last summer when I had my art at The Dolphin, it felt like a very different show. Back then I included “Primavera, Baby!”, my colorful Spring Goddess with a flower crown and sunglasses. The current show has work that has more blues in it, although not all. I’ve framed my smaller watercolors, some that are blue and starry, and also the mandalas.

There is a lot of work that I would love to show but no longer have access to, either because it has sold, or is being stored and is not available to me. So, I looked deeply into my closet and stacks of art to find work that hadn’t been seen that I might be able to include. There are a couple that I found that are older, in excellent condition, that had never been seen by anyone but me. Then there is work that was wet on the canvas two days before it was hung on the wall.

At this point in my career, I think of almost every solo exhibition as a retrospective of sorts. Of course it would be a dream to have a big studio space with lots of light where I could work as large as I liked, do completely new art for each show and have a place to keep the ones that don’t sell when the show is over. Isn’t this what every artist dreams? Ah… well, it’s my dream. One day, perhaps I will have that space. So much wants to be born from me… colors, images, shapes, and that blending thing I do when my brush has been loaded with different colors and some of each color remains trapped in the brush in layers until I press it onto the surface of a canvas. Then I blend, blend, blend and things come out… shadows and colors that have no name. I make it smooth, too. That’s just always been what I have preferred. It would be wonderful to be creating new art regularly, but that is not an option partially because of lack of space. So I show work from all periods of my life, and each exhibition is a glimpse of many years of my devotion to my art.

Hanging shows was always easy for me until recently, because of my health. I’ll get through this, my doctor says (and I believe him), but I knew I needed help and put the call out. My long-time friend and fellow artist Mike Stanko offered to help and was a HUGE help!!! I would have had great difficulty on my own and would have probably been there all day figuring out how to manage. A HUGE THANK YOU to my friend Mike!

Whenever I hang a show I bring more work than I need. I think this is probably the case with most artists. We can make a rough estimate as to how many paintings will fit in a space, but how they look side-by-side and how cohesive it is, is another thing. One of the paintings I hoped to show was the one I’m holding in this photo. It’s called “Night City”, and it’s a very deep, luscious dark blue painting with a floating city in a starry sky. This painting inspired me to write a children’s story years ago. I won’t give the story away, but basically it’s about having a safe place, wherever you are, where you can be who you are, have peace and quiet or run in the halls like a sillyhead, where no-one will tell you that you’re wrong for being who you are. It’s a good story, I think, and one that would be helpful for kids to read. Unfortunately, I didn’t include this painting in the show because it just didn’t work somehow with the rest of them. Years ago, I included it in another solo exhibition and a little girl of about ten years of age came up to me and said it was her favorite. That touched my heart, especially because of her age, and I wasn’t aware that anyone had actually seen it. She really saw it.

Peace,

Robyn

'Round and 'Round

So far 2019 has presented me with some intriguing art experiences that have brought me new inspiration. The form of a circle, the never-ending path of the spiral, and the labyrinthine inward turning of the mandala are in me and my art.

I do a lot of art now. I paint small circles with watercolors and add pen and pencil to them to create enclosed little worlds. Using colored pencils, I draw mandalas which do not look like the mandalas most people are familiar with, but I anchor the design on the central point even if it is not immediately noticeable. I’ve always liked the ‘tween times and ‘tween spaces, a dancing around of sorts.

In January I went to visit the Guggenheim to see the art of Hilma af Klint, which deeply resonated with me in a million ways, most of which I wouldn’t be able to explain in words. Around that time I worked with a fellow shamanic practitioner who invited me to draw a mandala. Before the new year, I had already been creating small watercolor circles. I remembered Carl Jung’s Red Book. All of it came together.

I continue to create mandalas as a way to find peace. I turn to the circle for solace and self-understanding. Oftentimes these days, my art feels like a self-prescribed balm for health issues I face, as I am being treated for chronic Lyme and also require more eye surgery in coming months. In Lyme, there are spirochetes which are spiral organisms that invade the deepest crevices of the joints and organs and are hard to eradicate from the body. Perhaps through the spiral and circular forms I create, I can find a way to the corkscrew-shaped life forms, and a way to make peace with them somehow. There has been a saying that to catch a fish, think like a fish. I’m not sure if this will work for me, but at least drawing the circles and mandalas brings me great peace while I’m doing them. Creating them calms my mind when my thoughts begin to race with fears of how I will get through this, how I will regain strength, how I will get rid of the excruciating overall pain in my body, and how my health will be restored. The whys are clear… nymph deer tick bites all over me in September, 2016. I pulled almost twenty fully engorged ticks off of me and had over fifty bites all over. They were small and stayed on despite showering. It took me more than 48 hours to discover them all. I became severely ill within days - difficulty walking, thinking, seeing, intense light sensitivity, a racing heart, slower breathing, the development of a facial tremor. One friend who was a nurse saved my life because she was the only one paying attention, calling me frequently to check on my symptoms and suggesting I get on a course of doxycycline asap. I did a 21-day course which got rid of the symptoms, but two months later symptoms returned and worsened and more symptoms appeared. The why’s are clear, but the how’s are not. After going to several doctors for help over the last 2-1/2 years, I am currently seeing a Lyme specialist and I have some hope as I continue forward.

So I sit with spirals, in the great labyrinth of life walking to and fro toward one destination. And I draw. A compass creates the circle around a central point. The pencils smoothly glide across the paper and the harder I press, the more vivid the colors. With a steady hand and two sets of eyeglasses with still no clear focus, I find my way around.

Robyn

The Dolphin Show - Art & Music

At the Opening Reception at The Dolphin Bookshop in July, 2018, I asked Jimi if he would be interested in playing music at the opening. Here's a video I took of him playing and then I panned around the room to show some of my work. I included newer paintings as well as some that were over thirty years old. In a way, it was a little retrospective exhibition. I liked having my work there. Thanks to Robin for the show. 

 

 

Eyes Open, Eyes Closed

Years ago I painted the painting above which is titled "Healing Spirit" as a gift for a friend. At the time whenever I painted a face, the eyes were always open. I enjoyed painting eyes, choosing the color, giving them light and roundness and a feeling of peace. 

During one of my shows someone remarked that the open eyes in my paintings were startling, unnerving, a little unsettling. I began to hear this every so often. One day when I was painting a face with the eyes open, they started bothering me too. It felt like they were glaring at me, so I closed them with a few strokes of my paint brush. After that I only painted closed eyes. To me it felt just as peaceful, like a sort of sleep, but without the stare.

Recently I was asked why I paint all my faces with closed eyes, so I told the story of how it was mentioned to me years ago that some people were disturbed by seeing the open eyes. One of my friends said she preferred the open eyes. "Really?" I asked, in excitement. Sometimes we just need one person to understand and accept what it is that we do, so that we feel okay about doing it, not that artists do their art for anyone but themselves, although some do and that's all right. But I don't, and by closing the eyes, even though it felt right to me at the time, now it feels a bit like I was backing down from a stare, so to speak. That's not like me at all.

Now I'm painting open eyes again and it feels really good. Here's looking at ya. :)

Peace & Blessings,

Robyn

Building the Temple

For a period of about a year, beginning in 2007, I painted in an abstract style. I made a video of those paintings and have posted it here on my website under the "Art" tab for those who wish to know the story of them. One of these paintings was titled "Building the Temple". 

Some of my abstract paintings were a bit more visually chaotic than others, and all of them felt very free to create. The freedom was scary at first. Freedom sounds like it would be a good thing, and it is. But when we are used to some degree of control, making a shift toward letting go and allowing things to be a lot more loose and free-formed can feel a bit daunting. After that fear passed, I found the process of creating these works invigorating. 

"Building the Temple" emerged with this same freedom, but with a sense of deliberation, as if the building blocks already knew exactly where they were supposed to be and just fell into place with each brush stroke. The energy was settled and serene. It told the story of creating wholeness. I remember it vividly. I created this after I had had a healing session with the shamanic practitioner I was working with at the time and I was feeling as if pieces of me had been put back into the right place. They had been, and this was the result. 

When she saw this painting, she felt drawn to it and pretty instantly felt its peace. I knew it belonged with her and gifted it to her as a gesture of my gratitude, for it was a symbol of our deep work. 

Peace and Blessings,

Robyn

Birds Like Angels

I've been going to the beach a lot this summer. It's been very helpful as I take a very slow summer to heal myself, restore my energy and enjoy life. It's been many years since I let myself simply enjoy all that summer offers. 

Yesterday at the beach there were so many seagulls. Usually there are always some, but there were a huge flock of them flying around in patterns and hanging out on the sand. A couple of times while I was in the water watching the sky change as the sun was setting, a seagull flew straight at me and looked as though it were about to hit when suddenly it would see me and soar upwards into the air. I really like seagulls. A lot of people think they are a nuisance, but I like them and always have. That's probably because I've heard them all my life and they are one of the sights and sounds of home for me. And I love animals.

Years ago when I was working in a college library, I was also taking classes at night. I took a photography class and used a film camera that was completely manual and had to develop my own film. One of our assignments was to capture something in motion. I went to the beach, brought some scraps of bread with me and hoped to see some seagulls flying so I could coax a few to fly closer to me with the bread. A huge flock was sitting on the sand and they were all facing the water, away from me, as I got out of my car. When I began tossing bits of bread in the air, they saw and they came. I was swarmed and it was wonderful! They flew all around me and hovered in the air in every direction. They were so close that I reached out and fed them from my hands. I heard the beating of their wings. The sound was unearthly and sublime. I also took some cool photos that day that my professor really liked. 

As I drove home I couldn't get the sound of the beating of their wings out of my head and my memory. I thought this... this is what angels sound like. Then I did the painting above titled "Birds Like Angels". From then on, whenever white birds or seagulls appeared in my art, they were a metaphor for angels.

Peace and Blessings,

Robyn 

Hibernation, In Life and Art

Last January I developed pneumonia and it took me months to recover. Right now it is late summer and still strength and energy are returning, and many days for me are quiet, easy and slow. I am honoring what my body requires. I am also honoring what my spirit requires, as what I experienced while recovering from pneumonia was powerfully spiritual.

When I was sick I was taken away from the world, when previously I had been extremely active in it.  I had to let go. Many days in bed with little or no energy forced me into a state of being, rather than doing. There were no days or nights as the concept of time fizzled away and it all began to blur together. It felt like I was dying. I fought it at first, but at some point I had to let go.... let go of all that I wanted to be doing, all the plans I had made, let go of what my life had been before, and maybe even life itself. 

There were things I experienced while in this state of being that were profound. Things inside, as well as out. I was curled up within a metaphorical cocoon and felt surrounded by the love of the universe, by the love of my Spirit Helpers, supported, wrapped, and held. It's difficult to describe any other way without going into too much detail, but it was a deeply sacred experience. I was being supported through the process, loved and cared for in a way that requires pure faith and complete abandon to be fully aware of it, and to realize what an incredible blessing I had been given.

Desire to do anything left me, even when I began to very slowly recover some physical strength. It was as if everything I was or thought I should be had been erased, cleared away, cleansed. It was an opportunity to start new. I listened for stirrings within as to what I wanted to do, even things that required little energy. Nothing called to me until a friend told me about a juried art exhibition for self portraits. At a time when I was no longer sure of who I was, I wondered what kind of self portrait would emerge. 

In my bed, I painted. Even that exhausted me, so neither of the paintings I did are completely finished. That is okay. "Hibernation: Dreamtime in the Cave" came first, and then "Dreamtime in the Garden" followed. I entered them both into the show and the garden one got in.

When I looked back in my journal I saw I had written that I had had a dream about an Ojibwe man who brought me to a Bear Dance, to honor the Spirit of Bear. I had that dream just before I got sick. Around me at that time, before getting sick, I also saw words or images of Bear in different forms and places. Bear was with me in the cave as I hibernated too. It was all so sacred. 

The only other thing I felt like doing was reading and delving more deeply into my spiritual path, the one I was called to. So I did, voraciously.

I've read about other people's periods of initiation and although everyone goes through something totally different, one thing is common: there is a letting go, a being taken away from life for a while that occurs and afterward, we are not the same. Things we thought we were have been cleared away and paths we were headed down may no longer feel right. What we are left with is what is true for us, whatever we discover that to be. 

In one way that time was brutal, but in another it was really quite beautiful. 

Peace and Blessings,

Robyn

 

 

Sacred Objects

I think, in a way, that all art making is sacred, just by the fact that it is the creation of a completely new object or image made by an individual who is unique. That same object or image would never exist otherwise, and can never be replicated exactly. It is as unique as its maker. 

Then there are objects and images that are created specifically for those who do spiritual work, to be used in their work. I have painted drums and worked on wooden staffs that I use, but I have yet to make from scratch an object like a drum, rattle or other instrument or costume object for use in my spiritual work. I have recently been asked (told, really) by Spirit to make a particular object for my own use that will require feathers. Since I was told in a journey to make this object, feathers have come to me often and I trust the reason. I smile. 

Above is one of the drums I painted for a friend on a spiritual path. I was asked to paint a dragon. When I paint a canvas on my easel, I usually don't pray first, but working on a sacred object like this requires a special sort of preparation. For this particular drum, I created sacred space, called in the Spirits from the directions and then my compassionate Helping Spirits. I said some prayers asking Spirit to guide my hand and then I filled myself up with Love as I worked. It's all guided, even my other works of art which are not done for the purpose of being used in spiritual practice. It's all done with the help of Spirit. Without that, the work is empty. 

I didn't plan for the dragon to look like this. I just began painting and this is what emerged as I painted while almost in a trance. I didn't know the dragon would hold the world in its belly. That seems to give it a more special meaning. 

At some point my plan is to make objects to use in my spiritual work, as I am called to. The one that requires feathers will begin as soon as I have the right amount of feathers I was told to have. I smile, and trust. 

Two books give me a great deal of inspiration and joy as the authors share their wisdom, images and journey suggestions: Evelyn Rysdyk's "A Spirit Walker's Guide to Shamanic Tools" and Nicholas Breeze Wood's "Voices From the Earth: A Handbook for the Modern Shaman". I want to dive in, but will go as Spirit intends, with the time I have balancing the different things I do. I am very grateful to those who have walked this path a long time and have shared their wisdom with us. I smile, and give thanks. 

Peace and Blessings,

Robyn

Paint, Dance, Pray: Who Am I and What Do I Do?

One thing I know for sure is that I am an artist. I've been painting since I was about eight years old and it quickly turned into something that I needed to do. I still need to do it. Even if periods of time go by when I do not paint, I know that I am still an artist. Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet" come to mind, along with an old friend's encouraging words years ago that reminded me that even during times when I'm not actively creating works of art, that I am still and always will be an artist. 

If I could say I am just a painter that would feel simpler, but I am pulled in different directions toward ways of expressing myself that feel right and interesting and good to do. Those things, along with my spiritual life, which is a way of life for me, make life feel very full because there is always something to work on, to be curious about, to explore, to learn, to expand into.

I paint and once I finish one, another is ready to quickly emerge, but there isn't always time to let it. My spiritual life is ongoing, daily and enriches my life more than I can say. I'm on a path and there is still so much to learn, but I'm on it, doing it. Those two things alone make for a very rich life, but there is more... I make masks and costumes, mostly for performances but now also for spiritual work. This year it seems I am meant to take the year off from performing, but the desire is always there in the background... the stories come through my dance whenever I start to move a bit, and that is a spiritual experience in itself. Then there are other things like painting shoes and drums and things. Those, alone could be a full-time endeavor. 

Perhaps I should just call myself "Little Miss Gemini-Rising", and embrace it all. Actually, this is what I do, although it is a juggling act and it can be a bit challenging to maintain the balance between it all.  Some things take precedence, of course. Spiritual work is at the top of the list, right next to art making. Sometimes they tie in together nicely. It all intertwines for me. 

My spiritual life is one that not too many people who know me in person, know about. I mention it when it feels safe to, but the only people (of those I know personally) who truly know what it is that I do are my teacher, and... well, not many others and that's okay. I suppose I'm mentioning it on here because in this blog which is titled Art & Spirit, I'll be mentioning it. There may be posts about just art, other posts about art and spirit, and some about just my spiritual path. It's a shamanic path and one I would not have chosen if I had the choice, because it is not an easy one. I was pulled onto it by the Spirits before I even knew what shamanism was. "Called" is a better word. Sounds softer. I'm embracing it, every bit of it and even the initiations can be quite profoundly beautiful in the deepest ways. Have drum, will journey. :)

That's it for now.... life is an interesting ride, isn't it?

Peace & Blessings,

Robyn