Returning to Wonderland
“Off Limits,” a favourite oil painting of mine from my previous “Down the Rabbit Hole” series (2014-2015)
“Begin at the beginning,” said the King, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” This quote from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland has stuck with me ever since I read it during my research phase for my Down the Rabbit Hole painting series (if you recall from my previous blog entry, I mentioned having created this collection of inspired works in 2014 following the death of my brother). Most would find this quote simply humorous, which it is and I’m sure was Carroll’s initial intention. But from an artist’s perspective, he also instructs in the process of creating meaningful art.
What is meaningful art? This is a question that I have learned to ask myself every day before I even pick up my paintbrush or pen. To truly discover the answer to this, one must understand what makes art meaningless. I learned this the hard way by painting what I thought other people wanted me to paint or what I thought would sell in my local community. Yes, I did sell a few things, but it soon fizzled out and I was left with a bunch of works that I absolutely hated and had no attachment to. It also left me with minimal time to bring to life the ideas that inspire me. This is the fine line every artist must walk: painting what sells versus painting what makes you happy.
Oftentimes, the message must be repeated time and again for the lesson to really sink in. Though it has been about seven years since I first faced this universal dilemma, I recently found myself confronted with the same question again—is the art I am making meaningful? This time around, the messenger came in the form of a gallery manager who challenged me on some recent works that I had dropped off for sale (God really has a sense of humour, and I think Him and Carroll must truly get along). The gallery manager questioned the authenticity of my work and what it was inspired by, enforcing that their gallery only supports certain types of works. Although my work was still accepted, I was naturally offended by this confrontation and went home fuming about it. After some thought and a discussion with an old friend, I realized why I had felt so defensive. It wasn’t what the gallery manager had said. Rather, it was the underlying, subconscious message that had triggered my emotional reaction. The Divine had stepped in and was asking me, “Are you currently making your best and most meaningful artwork?” I humbly admitted to myself, “No.”
With that realization, my new direction has become clear: make meaningful art. That is the journey you are joining me on, dear reader. This is not the beginning of me being an artist, but rather it is the start of a visual documentation of me having begun again. I have peeled away the layers of societal expectations, traumas, and fears to allow myself the creative space to be my most authentic self and finally make art that I find meaningful. The alternative—painting what sells—is no longer an option.
So, here I am once again, standing at the precipice of the unknown with an uncomfortably familiar sense of uncertainty and doubt. I’ve been here before, so I know the trick is to not falter and to not worry about making mistakes or taking the wrong step. The true creative process is about allowing the imagery to manifest as its own unique, visual language. The paintings will intuitively tell me what they need—they always do. This way often seems dark at first, but I know each brushstroke will bring a reflection of colour that will shape and reveal a brighter world around me that I can share with all of you. With time, patience, and consistent practice, I will let the story of my artwork unfold. But to get there, as Carroll said, I must first begin at the beginning and go on…
~*~
“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”