She learned how to paint doorways to new worlds in her time on the other side. They taught her how to feel it into existence. To let the world reveal itself through the merger of body, paint and canvas. And these were doorways. Not windows. She could explore the other side of anything she painted. Unimaginable worlds of wonder. Yet, she had imagined them. Hadn’t she? The thought troubled her. Did these worlds exist before she painted them? Had some part of her tapped into their existence and she simply intuited their forms through the movements of her arm and hand? Or had she brought them into being by her creative act? Are artists gods? If she created these worlds, then who created hers? Who was painting her?
She pushes these thoughts aside.
She had the feeling that if she questioned it too much the magic would disappear. Z warned her about as much. “Don’t think, feel” is always good advice. She felt an endless line of artists imagining each other into being. Separate, yet whole. One great artist dreaming itself into endless worlds, in endless forms, eternal and infinite. The artist who is the art, who is us. This felt true and eased her mind. The scent of bliss returned. Her thoughts and stories subsided. She smiled at the new world she had painted. It looked comfy and sweet, filled with her favourite hues.
She put down her brush and breathed in her work. It was a masterpiece, and she no longer had deep enough attachments to ego that might prevent her from saying so. She was eager to explore this new world. She gave a wink to whatever artist may have created her and wished them well. Then stepped into her painting.
Doorways (2019)
ink and watercolor on paper, 22” x 30”