Stones — becoming an “artist”

With a lot of support from others, I went to “art camp” this summer. My passion for making art is fairly recent, probably within the last 5 years. I credit the part of me I call Little B, the young girl part of me that emerged in conversation with my therapist as I processed all that occurred in my childhood to create the no-longer-functional aspects of my adult life. I wanted freedom from the constraints of those patterns, wanted to live a life of more joy, more connection. It required radical change. Little B came along to help me.

She is irrepressible. Exuberant joy in every part of her being. And it quickly became apparent that she loves art. Everything about it. It took awhile for the grown-up in me to reconcile my “lack” of actual experience and training in the visual arts with Little B’s insistence on playing with all the things …

I’ve been writing since I was a child. Poems, stories, essays, fiction, memoir. That was a medium in which I felt comfortable. But Little B wanted more, much more.

I found a place called the Grunewald Guild that seemed perfect for me. Their tagline — art + faith + community — seemed to match my inclinations. Plus, they had a triple spiral labyrinth on the grounds. And a river nearby. And an orientation to Spirit and belonging that resonated with my soul.

I’d been there a few times before the pandemic and loved it. During the pandemic, the Guild offered a number of online classes. And people I met through the Guild also offered visual journaling with favorite books, e.g., Cole Arthur Riley’s This Here Flesh. I was hooked! Post-pandemic, I’ve participated in a weekly Cyber Studio, maintaining my links with the friends I met through the Guild.

Through the generosity of a Guild friend and several cost-saving measures, I was able to book myself into two back-to-back residential experiences at the Guild this summer. I wanted to give myself more experience and practice in drawing so signed up for “Drawing from Where You Are” and “Connecting Hand, Eye, and Soul Through Nature Drawing.” Both taught by deeply compassionate and creative instructors. One was completely pencil and paper, the other ink pen and watercolor. A good blend, I thought.

In the beginning, my “try hard to do it right” adult was still present and active. And as I set about creating a drawing of this composition of stones as an exercise in “shading and value,” I was asking for guidance each step of the way. Which pencil should I use for this? How can I make it look rough? Should I use a different shading technique for each stone (to make it more interesting)?

I was offered choices but not advice. I could use vine charcoal or I could put down graphite and soften it with a blending tool. Test it out in my sketch book, see what I like. One suggestion from an instructor: What calls to me in this particular stone? (and bring out that particular part). I progressed from trying to make it look exactly like the image to making NOT an exact replica but something more … something that looked “interesting” to my eye.

As I gained confidence, I stopped asking for advice. I tried out different things. Tested different techniques. Chose the one that appealed to me.

Little B was very happy.

It took several days. Each stone was several hours worth of work. But the time was fulfilling. I cancelled my subscriptions to several streaming services. No need for “distraction” when my time was filled with art-making.

I think it’s finished. The way a poem is mostly finished but maybe a tweak here or there over time.

And I see that I’ve created a work of art. I feel like I can actually call myself an artist, without disclaimers.

And now what? Do I frame it? Hang it on a wall? Give it away?

I did sign it. Sort of. A smallish, stylized S- in the lower right hand corner. “I, Saoirse, did this.”

I am becoming an artist.