The Shpongle Concert. This experience was... an interesting one, to say the least. If you know me in my personal life, you know I am quick to talk about The Grey’s and their mission. In short, they fascinate me. They fascinate me, yet, they also... scare me. I find myself respecting their work and admiring their tenacity in successfully building a conscious art community. I am, however, completely terrified by the way they present their inner findings. Especially so, in the way they present their psychedelic experiences. What they say and what they do, has no synchronicity, in my opinion. They preach on the subject of segregation between the ego and true self, yet they do just that... preach. Being a person who was not raised with religion or indoctrination of any kind, it’s as if it is staring me right in the face. As Alex Grey turned and looked out at the community him and his wife have created, I felt a chill run up my spine. “They’ve done it” I thought. “They’ve truly done it. They’ve created a community that is consciously, unconscious. I may have an idea of how that’s accomplished, but do I wish that for myself? Do I wish to be a follower of a couple human beings’ painted depiction of what life represents? Or do I wish to be a follower of what my ancestors have been doing, themselves, for thousands of years? Without words. Without pictures. Without a blurred line between artistic expression and faith.” If anyone has anything they wish to say on this subject, please, comment below. I would love to hear your opinion on the matter.
The sun behind the sun....
#crop of the crystallized Sun Moon Star Beetle that @see.witch and I finished together last weekend. I love when the energy flows so easily that a piece almost creates itself 💙 it is available ~
This piece perplexed me.// It threw an arc of energy so wide. A great half-circle spanning half the gallery.// I could come in, if I wished. If I needed what it offered.// To grieve.// I only understood after I read the placard.// Robert Motherwell.
In response to Lorca's poetry about the viciousness of the Spanish Civil War.// A processing. A container. A well. A memorial.// I remained outside the arc. Understanding loss. Understanding that *that* loss was not mine to colonize. Awed.// Robert Motherwell
Elegy to the Spanish Republic
For Pollock, Plant Your Feet// I used to get massive, blinding headaches every time I walked into a museum. // There was just so much creative energy. So much god. I couldn't stand in front of it. Couldn't filter it through.// Maybe if I could take off my shoes. Lain my feet flat on cold, marbled ground. Stood Sacred. Witness to a burning bush. // It took me years to understand how to navigate the energy of great art. Humble art. The creative spirit. How to choose which pieces to engage with. Who to stand before. When to say goodbye.// I've finally learned to plant my feet before a Pollock--wide legged, flat of foot-- lest I be knocked down. Ive learned to wait until everyone else has walked away, has removed their energy field from the vicinity. Learned to ask my companion to take two steps to the left. // Then we can commune. Then I can receive what The Muse and the author have offered. Only then can the art be who it was meant to be, in the presence of this viewer, this supplicant. // The gift. The giver. The receiver. // Commune.// Jackson Pollock
Of course, these are things no novice can capture with a camera. Nor can words convey well, or even adequately --being that visual art is *visual*--for the eye. Not for the letter. Not for the tongue.// Yet I am always compelled to say something. An homage. A word of thanks.... For the way art and artists shift my thinking. Nudge my body into alignmemt. Identify a confunding feeling. Open the mind.// Today we went to the Church of Art--this time at LACMA. As usual, there weren't many women in the walls. But Helen Frankenthaller was there, calling you in, deeper and deeper. // I wonder, if she'd rile if I said this massive piece, and a similar piece at the Palm Springs museum, feels like being received by a womb. Would she bristle? Because surely no man's abstract work would be so quickly associated with the body? Or would she say: Yes, of course. What else more central? More primal? More key?
Some art I liked today. Man, Christopher Russell kills it every time! Love you @photoscratch !!! 😘😘😘 Oh and while going to galleries today I ran into someone in the art world I hadn’t seen for a long time. They said they wondered if I had died. Art Gallery attendance can be like church attendance, if you don’t show up for awhile people wonder if the devil got ya! Don’t worry, I still got faith. Just needed some time to reflect. See ya around 💋#photography#painting#art#artla#artchurch
You can find Infinite Light Within goodies at the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors in Wappingers Falls, NY!
Dropped off this order of necklaces and bracelets at the gift shop today. Along with Palo Santo oil, 'From the Ground Up' oil blend, and Palo Santo incense sticks.
Grateful to all the amazing beings who are holding space at COSM!
Thank you for your continued work creating a magical, art-filled community!
And thank you @ccdiggity for hosting me this weekend. You are such an amazing woman and friend!
All the love ✌🏽
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