Meditation & Art Making

I sat and wrapped dowels with yarn. It was just me in the house with my cat twirling around my feet waiting to have a string dangle above his face. The farthest sounds merged with the sounds near me to fill this space: a faint hoot of an owl outside my dark living room windows; the refrigerator turning on; the click of the dowel hitting the edge of the table, while the wool yarn gently swishes through my fingers. I listened to my breath, and then watched it follow my movement. I watched my fingers squeeze and manipulate the string and turn the wooden sticks in a way that allowed the movement to repeat on the next stick. I knew I was making an Ojos de Dios but I was appreciating every movement that my fingers took in this moment. I understood that this appreciation comes from my kinesiology studies when I once studied occupational therapy. I understood that this appreciation continues and flourishes in my yoga anatomy studies. This movement represented a small culmination of my life. I thanked my body for this moment. And connected to my breath and movement once again. (November 20, 2016)

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The back of my first ojos weaving.

As I approach my capstone project for my grad work, I look at what others have done. Most have a series of work, an in depth study of a medium or an issue that is being addressed. And then I turn to my work: A hodgepodge of half completed projects represented in many different mediums. The finished series of my peers make me question if I am an artist. It’s unfortunate that I contemplate this thought, but without an extensive product line, I struggle with feeling inadequate.

I am an artist. Simply because I enjoy making art and being in that moment with my materials. While I don’t finish many projects, I relish in discovering a new medium to experiment with. Yes, the traditional fine artists would probably argue that I should complete my work and have something to show. However, I counter that I don’t need to have finished work in order to feel accomplished. It is the meditative state that is reached during art making that defines my success.

I was realizing very quickly that I needed to put this yarn in a ball.

I knew that this line of thinking could be accepted in the art world but I wanted to support it. According to psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (1994):

If you like music, listen to it with care, learn how to make it. If you like plants, learn how to grow flowers. If you like cars, learn how to fix them. If you like money, learn more about the stock market or about starting your own business. But you should not do these things primarily because you want to be a skilled musician or because you want to be rich. You should do them simply because of the enjoyment you get from the activity itself. If everything you do is for ulterior motive, to be admired, to be in control, or to be wealthy, then chances are you won’t enjoy the passing moment (Chapter 3, min. 23:15).

To further support my claim, I remember reading Makers: A History of American Studio Craft and feeling validated (Koplos & Metcalf, 2010). The title reminds me that I too am a “maker.” Perhaps, this describes me better than identifying myself as an “artist.” I don’t create because I have something to respond to about a current event or a world issue, I “make” simply because I enjoy doing it. I am an artist, but I can further define myself as a process-driven “maker.”

Each skein of yarn took approximately one hour to untangle and wrap into a neat package.

After earning my yoga certification and studies in meditation, I was able to connect the benefits behind art making and meditation. I also began to understand why I struggled with meditation. It’s believed that for beginners, sometimes it helps to use an activity to engage in a meditative process. I remember feeling that I successfully reached a meditative state while experimenting with this during a drawing exercise. It was in this moment that I quietly studied a small leaf, watching it flicker in the sunlight and gentle wind. I began producing a small study of this leaf, focusing on its bent little twig and translucent shape. I felt satisfied with this tiny, almost insignificant illustration, tucked within my Big Bend National Park pamphlet. I didn’t plan on keeping it because I got what I wanted out of the activity. I felt rejuvenated and replenished in this short exercise, as if I followed a guided meditation activity led by a yoga guru, connecting with the sounds, my breath, and becoming witness to my body accomplishing tasks. It was this moment that marked a beginning for me. It was here that I felt comforted in being able to recognize that I was an artist that enjoyed the meditative process of creating.

The beginnings of my 8-sided ojos.

While meditation and art are no longer separate for me, I am beginning to see that others have viewpoints that correlate with my thinking. I recognize a meditative process in Liz Reyes’ joyrider runs, as she repeats a mantra of gratitude synced to her breath and footsteps (Akins & Check, 2016, p.99). Allan Kaprow’s happenings draw out the minute details of the present moment in acts such as walking, while John Dewey philosophically delves deep into justifying experiences having aesthetic qualities (Weintraub, 2012, p. 90-91; Dewey, 1934, p. 40-41). Mary Meigs Atwater, a weaver during the early 20th century, had began connecting therapeutic benefits to art making. (Koplos & Metcalf, 2010, p. 125-126 ). Furthermore, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi describes how in connecting the mind and body one can achieve a “flow” state in an experience through a balance of skill and challenge, as seen in my yoga, art and meditative studies (1990, p. 74-75).

Mohler, J. Ojos de Dios. Year unknown.
(My current inspiration.)

This creation pattern began to surface in my art years ago in my Chimes in The Woods (2002). Small metal tubes emanating a light hum were carefully situated, almost hidden, among chosen branches in the beginning tree line. Calling to the viewer, the chimes encouraged the viewer to question their source, created mystery and allowed the viewer a space to explore their sensory feedback. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to articulate my intention well, and it’s popularity fell by the wayside to the nearby traditional art forms.

Yellow and Blue. 8 x 10 inches. Photography. 2012.

Then through an exploration in an eco art photography series, I discovered other thought processes similar to mine and I was finally able to provide constructive meaning behind my art making philosophies. This is when I initially read about happenings and the experience that art can provide a viewer. My series represented abstracted images that “entice[d] the viewer to take some time to look more closely at small delicate moments in nature, pique their curiosities of the natural world, and provide wonder to natural happenings that tend to be overlooked or taken for granted in our busy technologically infused schedules” (2014). While the installation and photography series was to draw out meditative qualities upon their viewing, I believe my current work is moving towards eliciting meditative qualities in the creation or making process. Ironically, I notice both of these qualities are represented in my eco art photography series.

Across 2121. 20 x 30 inches. Photography. 2014.

Awareness that the process of creating art brings me to a meditative state is new to me, and while it is not a popular way to describe art, I am excited to explore it further. Not only does my art making correlate to meditation, but I also find that it parallels itself to theories in therapy and craft. With every class in my Masters of Art Education program, I am brought closer to clearly defining my intention. I believe I have always intended to create art under this philosophy but never knew where to find validation. I know very well that I may never finish my Ojos de Dios or that my eco art photography series may never come to an end, but it is not the finished product that I seek. It is the pure enjoyment of the activity that I benefit from and hope to instill in my students as they work as well. Creating a space to allow them to also experience the benefits of art making is what I’m hoping to achieve. I understand that this may not always be successful but I look forward to discovering ways to bring this “guided” meditative state into the classroom.

References

Akins, F., & Check, E. (2016). The Roads to Junction: Making Art, Teaching Art. Dubuque, Kendall Hunt.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1994). Flow: Living at the Peak of Your Abilities (Audible). Wheeling, IL: Nightingale-Conant.

Dewey, J. (1934). Art as Experience. New York: The Berkley Publishing Group.

Koplos, J., & Metcalf, B. (2010). Makers: A History of American Studio Craft. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Weigand, J. A. (2002). Chimes in The Woods (Installation). William Paterson University.

Weigand, J. A. (2014, May 14). Eco Explorations: A Respite for a Tired Soul. Retrived from http://ecoexplorations.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-respite-for-tired-soul.html

Weintraub, L. (2012). To Life!: Eco Art in pursuit of a Sustainable Planet. Las Angeles: University of California Press.